


The Healer and The Hunter

by x_olotl



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Other, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Pre-The Hobbit, Slow Build, because fuck me that's why, english is not my first language, everything is inaccurate im sorry, my god thranduil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-11-30 07:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11458764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_olotl/pseuds/x_olotl
Summary: A healing soul finds what he needs most when he forgets everything he had ever known.





	1. Life

**Author's Note:**

> “How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?”  
> \- Lian Hearn (Across the Nightingale Floor)

 

 

 _“Eärendil, hm?” Elrond mused as he steps into a small clearing by the banks of the river of the Great Greenwoods. There sat a young elleneth, grey eyes gleaming as bright as the first star of the night. Yet within the ellith’s presence, the she-elf did not flinch. The brown lapels of the skirt of Elrond’s tunic slightly swayed from the gentle, cool, spring breeze that greeted him in turn._  
_“The Feast of Starlight is yet at place, my lord. King Oropher would be displeased if he had known you had slipped away,” The lady spoke in a soft, quiet voice. But Elrond heard her words loud and clear. Elrond then only realised what outburst he might later on face and slightly chewed on his lower lip. He momentarily looked away before stepping beside the elleneth’s sitting spot and clasping his hands behind him as he, too, decided to forget his troubles and look up at the sky._  
_“Ah, I can always reason with him. He will understand. Are you one of the Sylvans, heruel nin?” Elrond asked silently as he lowered his gaze at the sitting lady and his fond, brown eyes, met the elleneth’s grey ones. Her long tresses flowed freely from behind her shoulders in smooth, straight, amber strands. It was slicked back with a circlet of silver sprigs resembling the humble antlers of young, red deer. On her forehead, on top of the joint of the sprig, sits a pendant of a smooth, round gem with a glow of pure starlight. Elrond then fell silent once the elleneth’s attention was drawn to him._  
_“I am none of the feasting elves in the palace, I’m afraid, my lord,” She let out a slight smile as she now moved to stand up. The elleneth was dressed in a light, green dress of soft material kept in place by a white sash with sewn diamond gems tied around her waist, with the knot on her back while the rest of the sash swept the grass along with the trail of her green dress. On the straps of her dress were golden pins with three, oaken leaves craved faintly, only distinct within close sight. And pinned to the straps of the dress is a thin curtain of white cape of very, light material that it would flutter within one breath of the wind._  
_Elrond then knew of who he had encountered that night._

“My lord?” Lindir asked in slight hesitation as he peered at the Lord of Imladris, staring into nothingness with nothing but his hand whose arm is on the armrest supporting his chin. “My lord.”  
At once, the dark-haired ellith was broken from his trance and looked up at his steward, with letters on his hands. Elrond’s furrowed eyebrows then returned and parted his lips to complain, but the red seal on the envelopes stopped him. The lord of Imladris then closed his lips once more.

 

_Dear Lord Elrond,_

_News would have already spread, that I am sure of. This letter does not deny the rumours, but is sent to you to confirm it. We will need your aid in this great battle, Lord Elrond. It is a battle for Middle-Earth. And if possible, we must hold council, upon my father’s request. Darkness is spreading, Lord Elrond, and this is our only chance of stopping it until many, many, many years. We hope to hear word from you very soon._

_Sincerely,  
Thranduil of Greenwood_

“So now, the King uses his son for errands,” Elrond murmured gravely and put the letter away, folding it back into its three folds and slipping it back in the safety of the envelope. Elrond leant back on her chair with a heavy sigh and rested his arms on his armrest. Angmar. It _must_ come to an end, the treachery it keeps. Elrond then lowered his gaze and stared at the band of golden ring on his finger. _Valia_. Elrond then returned his gaze forward and closed his eyes.

“The prophecy will be fulfilled, at last.” He murmured gravely and shudders as he lets out a silent, heavy sigh.

 

“My lord, you are troubled.” A young elleneth said quietly. She was dressed in a green tunic, with the skirts reaching her knees. She wore a belt around her waist with two, sheathed swords kept on both sides, along a leather satchel. On her back was a quiver strapped to her torso. The sleeves of her tunic reached only past the shoulders and showed the yellow shirt beneath. On her arms, she wore a pair of leather gauntlets pointed to the edge of her knuckles. On it were carvings of leaves of vines. The silver breeches were tucked in leather boots reaching half the leg.  
“And what makes you think that?” Thranduil asked as he glanced at the elleneth quickly before passing the elleneth her bow and taking his own one. The prince was dressed in a silver tunic and grey breeches, with gauntlets and boots same as the elleneth. His leather belt only held one sword at the left side and a quiver on the left. The skirts of his tunic reached half of his leg with four slits up to the waist, dividing the skirt into four, silver lapels. The sleeves of his tunic covered his whole arms.  
“Because we all are, my lord. There is no way of denying to tension.” The elleneth spoke once more as she spared the prince a quick glance before looking ahead. Currently, they were crouched by the thick branch of a willow tree, hidden by its shadow. It was midday, and the sun was high. The brighter the sun, the darker its shadow.  
The elleneth looked around once more with her (e/c) orbs, ears keen for any rustle or signs of approach. But there is none, except for the sound of the lapels of Thranduil’s skirt fluttering with the wind. The elleneth rolled her eyes and used her bow to keep the back lapel from hanging off the branch like a banner of war. The corner of Thranduil’s mouth then slightly twitched which would have been a click of his tongue if they were not needed to be so unnoticed.  
“Someone is moving west. Not more than a couple of miles. Five people in a single file. They are _so_ noisy, I’ll wager my _ada_ also hears their approach,” Thranduil suddenly whispered and the airy tone only made his distaste and scorn much obvious.  
“They’re just dwarf traders, Thranduil. You should expect no more.” (Y/n) joked and shook her head with a slight chuckle. The Sindar prince only rolled his eyes before preparing an arrow.  
“I cannot believe we are doing this. I could be doing something else much worthy of my time,” “You talk a lot, my lord, and that silly mouth of yours is what got us in this position.” “You dare speak to your prince like that?” Then they both paused, for the sound of hooves approached. Thranduil’s small, genuine grin faltered as he now moved to stand up on the willow branch and leapt down to the grassy forest floor. (Y/n), too, got down and joined the prince. She stepped not a few paces behind him as the horses approached and on their backs, mortal men rode past them whilst they shared greetings to one another. Once not several metres away, Thranduil only began to move and follow the track to the palace the men took. “Never in a million lives will I bow to any man, (Y/n).” Thranduil gave the elleneth a glance as she, too, followed the prince.

(Y/n) was dismissed immediately as soon as she stood by the front of the throne room with the prince and was ordered to resume her duties by another guard while the prince was led inside the hall. At the moment, the elleneth was at the stables, preparing to hand over selected horses to the retainers for the next patrol group.  
“(Y/n)?” She paused from strapping the saddlebags on the chestnut stallion and turned to the door of the stables. There, stood the infamous lady of the Noldor elves, Elerrian. (Y/n) immediately reached for the dry rag nearby and wiped her hands on it before scurrying to the doorway and gently nudging the lady-elf as far away from the stables.  
“My lady, you should not be here!” She exclaimed and the lady only chuckled and dismissed the distress visible on (Y/n)’s face. Elerrian is wearing pure, white garments. Thranduil would kill her if he ever found out that she let the lady be tainted by horse dung.  
“Nevermind such, mellon nin. Do you mind accompanying me on a stroll?”

Rubbing her hands together, (Y/n) looked about the greenery as she and Elerrian walks down the wide, wide clearing of Rhovanon. It was not cold or whatsoever. The elleneth only felt much more tense than usual whenever around the lady. She doesn’t know how she ended up here, for she remembered refusing the lady’s invitation profusely with the lame excuses of ‘I have duties’ and ‘the king will be furious’ and such. But here she is, side by side with the princess. None of them had ever spoken a word ever since stepping out of the realm, but the princess seems much tenser than (Y/n) herself.  
“Is… Is there something you wish to tell me, my lady?” (Y/n) asked, finally breaking the ice. Elerrian seemed slightly surprised before she nodded slowly and cleared her throat. No matter which angle one looks at, Elerrian is perfect. Long, dark hair shining like silk, fair, almost pale skin soft and warm to the touch, rosy cheeks, pointed nose, long eyelashes, bright, azure orbs, tall, slender figure… It’s no wonder she was the perfect pair for the prince, and everybody thought so. It was nothing (Y/n) frets or despises, but it was simply foolish of her to think that _she_ has a chance.  
“(Y/n), I… I bear a child in my womb.” (Y/n) paused in her tracks to look up at the princess. No matter what, Lady Elerrian was still a friend for her, and so is Thranduil. Their happiness is hers to share. The elleneth grinned at the flustered princess and almost held her hands, but immediately pinned them to her sides.  
“My lady, congratulations! Does the prince know?” Elerrian only grinned slightly, unable to contain her own giddiness, and shook her head. (Y/n) gaped and chuckled afterwards.  
“It’s been two months already and he still doesn’t notice, that silly-“, The lady then grabbed (Y/n)’s arms and held them firmly.  
“It will grow into a fine elf, (Y/n). I feel it, I feel Eru’s soul flowing through him,” Elerrian took a quick breath. “And I shall let you name the child, and be its teacher.” (Y/n) blinked in disbelief and only let a quick breath. No, that can’t be. Nowhere in the heavens did she ever deserve to name someone’s child, yet alone the future king and queen’s. The elleneth blinked once more and tore Elerrian’s azure stare away to stare at the lush grass with her own (e/c) ones.  
“I… I’m very, very honoured, my lady… But I don’t think I… I possibly can’t deserve such privilege. And-and my lord, Thranduil, will be upset! He would want to name the child himself!” Now, that took the Noldor elf’s attention. Elerrian pondered for a good few minutes, azure eyes squinted and averted as she pursed her lips.  
“Well, you can tell me the name after you’ve decided and then, I will tell Thranduil that that is what the child’s name should be!” (Y/n) sighed. She knew there is no way out of this. The princess was determined, and it could not be mistaken from the bright orbs staring at her (e/c) eyes.

And so, months passed. Each day, (Y/n) would ponder on what name should be given to the child. Elerrian had waited patiently for her decision, while Thranduil grew impatient. He does not know of Elerrian and (Y/n)’s intentions, but he’s almost on his last straw. Especially when Oropher’s temper is affecting everyone. But one day, seated on a branch of a rowan tree, (Y/n) toyed with the butt of her arrow. Her eyes were pinned to the skies. Winter had passed and it is already spring. Everything was green and returning to life. It was lovely.  
“The Great Greenwoods,” (Y/n) murmured against the crisp, midday air and the wind sighed in return. “Green… Leaves…” After a moment of silence, the elleneth then hopped on to the ground and landed with a gentle stumble forward before she sprinted back to the realm, arrow still in hand.  
(Y/n) had to go past many maid chambers and guards to only know of Elerrian’s whereabouts. It was a vast kingdom, after all. But the last she heard, is from Elerrian’s chamber maid, saying that Elerrian is already on labour. Now, (Y/n) approached the royal halls carefully and quietly. Down the hallway, she could spot a tall elf pacing back and forth in front of Elerrian’s room. Whether it was Oropher or Thranduil, she did not know. But she still cautiously approached, making sure each step was silent.  
“(Y/n).” It was Thranduil. (Y/n) let her tense shoulders drop and approached the king closer, and he seemed to stop pacing as well. Once several feet away, (Y/n) bowed before looking up at the elven prince.  
“(Y/n), will she be alright?” She paused and blinked a few times. She looked away in thought, for she was not sure herself.  
“I… I hope so, my lord. Let us hope for the best.” There was a moment of silence before Thranduil nodded and averted his gaze to the door. Pants were growing heavier and more painful, until they eventually turned into whimpers and cries. Thranduil was more than worried, as it was obvious from the crease on his brow and his frown. (Y/n) only remained standing by the doorway, providing the prince reassurance whenever he needs it most. The labour lasted thirteen hours before the midwife emerged from the room. Thranduil was relieved to hear the news of his wife asleep with their new born son sleeping by her side. Soon, he was allowed inside while the midwives left. (Y/n) stayed, almost unsure of what to do next. And after a very long, long while, her heart ached with jealousy and agony. But still, she felt glad. Should she turn back to her duties? Should she interfere?  
(Y/n) sighed and turned to leave the hallways before she heard the silent call of her name. The elleneth pretended to ignore it and proceeded to walk down the hallway and slipped the arrow she’s gripped tightly it could have snapped back into the quiver before descending down the stairs.

Two centuries have passed and almost nothing has changed but the addition of a new elf. However, everyone now fears that many will be taken away for the councils with the Last Alliance have been getting more and more frequent. Visit from Gil-galad were now on everyone’s weekly agenda. Celeborn and Galadriel would also visit, and so did Lord Elrond. And sometimes, every of the latter would come at the same time. But most of the time, Oropher would ride to Rivendell for it is where the council is usually held. And during those times, Thranduil is in charge.  
“How old are you, (nickname)?” A young Legolas would frequently ask, as if he would forget the same answer every day. To which he doesn’t. Perhaps the ellith was only making sure he _doesn’t._ (Y/n) sighed as she kept the daggers out of the ellith’s reach.  
“A thousand and four hundred. How about you, hm, young prince?” She asked with tease as she poked the young elf’s cheek with the butt of an arrow.  
“Two hundred.” (Y/n) nodded.  
“So, the prince could count. But can he shoot a moving arrow?”  
“Not yet, but I will.” The elleneth chuckled and shook her head. It was just as Elerrian said. He will grow into a fine, young elf, within watch or not, so she need not worry. Ever since the birth of the prince, (Y/n) had barely seen either of them. It was not like she wanted to, but she was quite unsure of what she should do next. But then again, all she had to do was continue her normal days, but as more days passed, the agony in her heart grew heavier. (Y/n) had even thought of running away.  
(Y/n) sighed and closed her eyes. She lowered her head and put down the arm holding up the arrow.  
“What troubles you?” The deep, velvety voice startled the elleneth and she opened her eyes. She turned to her left and found Thranduil between woods, head tipped slightly as his cerulean orbs watch (Y/n) tense upon his presence. It did not take (Y/n) long to recover. She shook her head and turned back to the targets and caught a glimpse of Legolas scurry down the path, perhaps sent away by the prince.  
“Nothing, my lord. I was only thinking.” She excused and also kept her arrow back in its quiver and held the bow firmly by her side. Thranduil, however, did not move any farther from his spot.  
“Is that so? What could you possibly be thinking about that you did not hear my approach? I have heard that you have improved greatly, and I wanted to see that for myself. However, I was disappointed.” (Y/n) winced and pressed her lips into a firm line. She turned away with a sigh and stood tensely on the same spot. Thranduil remained quiet, patient for a reply. The silence lasted for several minutes, and turned to eleven. And Thranduil was then certain that he will not get any response from the elleneth. So, he turned away without another word and returned to the palace. Once finally out of hearing distance, (Y/n) sighed and let her shoulders relax. She turned to look up at the orange sky and took a deep breath.  
“I must get away from here.”


	2. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Know that without night there is no day; without lies, no truth;without despair,no hope. Beware above all of hate, but call to its opposite too. For all things have an opposite and, if you choose it, with will and care, you may turn one thing into its reflection.”   
> -David-Clement Davies, The Sight

“But where to?” Adnir, the chamber maid sharing rooms with you asked in hushed murmurs as she sat on her bed while watching you pack items into one travelling bag. It was just essentials. You will work for more clothes later on. It was late, very late, and Adnir was woken up by one lump of provisions falling to the floor. She was a light sleeper, after all. And because of that small slip-up, you were forced to tell her your plans. And it left her disheartened, for the both of you had grown up serving the Elvenking’s halls. However, she did promise that she will tell no one, even if it meant banishment. For that, you were worried and thankful, none the least. Oropher or Thranduil, both could see through anyone as if they were some mere glass, and there is no doubt that Adnir, no matter what determination she had, will either be spared or be forced to wander in the woods.   
“Anywhere but here. Are you really sure you do not want to come with me?” You asked the elleneth and she determinedly shook her head. Even from the shadow of the room, you could see her bright, golden eyes and dark, brown tresses. Even with so little moonlight, you could see her freckled cheeks and plump lips, her warm, pained smile and her teary eyes. You suddenly stopped packing and moved to brace your friend firmly. A sob left her pink lips and you stroked a hand on her back in genuine reassurance.   
“We will meet again, mellon nin. Perhaps in a long time, but we will,” you whispered and gave her back a last pat before moving away, arms lingering for a while before fully retracting themselves. You moved back to your bed once more and checked the bag and saw if anything is forgotten. You had left everything that had come from the Woodland realm, except for the clothes and a sword that Thranduil said he found you with. And with one, final look, you headed for the door, except a glimmer from the top of your nightstand caught your eyes. It was the necklace that came with the sword. It was a simple, silver necklace, with antlers of a deer as its pendant. Swiftly, you moved back to grab it. You gave Adnir another wave before quietly stepping out of the room. You heard her shuffle on the bed from the outside as you quietly closed the door.   
You took a deep breath before sighing and giving yourself a quiet encouragement.

_‘There is no turning back.’_

Sneaking down the hallways are easy, for there were no guards. Either they are asleep or they thought that servant chambers were not their priorities. Which is, of course, true.  And in no time, you have finally reached the front gates. There were, strangely, no guards when there should be. You suddenly paused and hesitated. This is very unlikely. But then again, if you turn back now, you may never turn around ever again. So, you took a step forward and slowly opened one door. It made a quiet creak, but not loud enough to alarm anyone.

At last, the drawbridge over the river lay before your eyes. The fresh, evening scent of spring wafted your nose and your whole life lay ahead of you, beyond this thick forest. You took a step forward, but paused again when something cold touches your cloaked back. You felt its sharp end pierce your tunic, but did not go any further. The scent of wine then greeted you next.   
“Where will you go?” Thranduil asked, voice hushed in an icy and baffled murmur. The tip of the sword only pierced through your clothing more when he received no answer, thus forcing words out of your mouth.  
“F-far away, my lord,” you choked, and your hands holding both edges of the door dug through the rough marble. Thranduil made no attempt to draw back his weapon and only moved the blade and pressed it against the side of your neck. In one, swift slice, it will definitely end your breath. You then paused upon feeling the cold blade against your skin and closed your eyes.   
“Why?” Questions. Those were the last things you wanted during your flight, especially before it even starts. Sure, Adnir was an exception. But Thranduil was not. And of course, you don’t want questions _especially_ from Thranduil.   
“I believe I cannot provide an answer, my lord,” you replied in a quick, desperate whisper. You hissed sharply once the blade pressed harder against the skin of your neck and now, you’re sure that it has left a wound from the warm wetness dripping on the side of your neck. There was also a stinging pain, but Thranduil still did not move his sword.   
“Fine, fine. I will tell you the whole truth, my lord,” You gasped once he did finally sheath the weapon. You held the wound on your neck and pulled your hand away to find your palm tainted with your own blood. You will need to find special leaves later on, _if_ the Elven prince ever let you go.   
“Then, speak.” The impatience in his voice distracted you momentarily from the wound and you turned around to face the ellith and took a few steps back. He quickly placed a hand over the hilt of his silver sword but moved it away once you’ve stopped.   
“I wish to get away here, my lord, because…” You hesitated and looked away. You had never imagined that it would lead to this. That one day, you would regret ever choosing to fall for the elven prince. That you would choose to make peace with yourself rather than… keep hoping for hope. You longed to be gazed at by Thranduil the way he does Elerrian, and no way can you admit that. It should be a crime, for Elerrian is your good friend. They’re both god friends of yours, but it’s time to stop keeping the agony at bay. But there is no way you will admit that to the prince, right?  
You let out a quiet sigh before you were distracted by the faint sound of hissing metal. You turned once more and found the prince’s sword halfway out of its scabbard. Then, you knew. It’s either you speak or you will walk no longer.   
“..Because…” You started and took a deep breath. “Because, It pains me, my lord.” And the sword slowly returned to its sheath. You gathered all the courage you could and gazed up at Thranduil, (e/c) eyes gleaming even from the towering shadow of the Elvenking’s halls. Thranduil met your gaze as he listened. Intently. He wishes to hear reason.  
“It pains me, my lord, to see you and Elerrian. It reminds me of the chances I did not take because of my cowardice. I am truly happy for you and my lady, that I swear on. But I tried my best to make it last. My lord, I have devoted myself to you and has quietly wished that your heart were mine, but those were just silly dreams. And now, those dreams will be my downfall. I wish to rid of them, and I tried. However, as long as I know that I live beneath your halls, they will never disappear.” And with the dim, cerulean eyes, tired of lack of sleep widening in utter surprise, you turned away immediately. All of a sudden, it was as if it was winter and your feet were stuck in a frozen pond. You could not move. The sharp, slow breath the prince then took in made you flinched. He was displeased, that you know of.   
“Go,” he then said and you closed your eyes once more.   
“Go and never return. If you let your feelings stand between you and your duties, then you are not worthy of being associated with my father’s realm at all. Whore or advisor, you are worth less than them.” You took a deep breath of your own and did not dare glance at the prince’s way. You only forced yourself to turn around and stride across the bridge. You opened your eyes to the dark forest, still asleep beneath the inky sky and did not look back. A gentle gust of wind then ruffled the bristle of trees in a quiet whisper you swore you imagined.  
‘If I were able to do it, then you should have been able to, as well,’ was what it whispered. But those were the words you wished to hear. So, you shook the thought off and stepped onto Greenwood’s elven path.

Dawn finally broke open and you were thankful the trees decided to cooperate and did not change the path. Strangely, the green forest was slightly darker than usual. The words and event of the night still haunted you, even upon your wake. However, the trees would rustle and murmur quietly to each other. You were seated by the roots of a rowan tree, with your bag collected beside you. You gazed blankly at the clearing ahead of you and your (e/c) eyes widened when a white blur moved among the shadowy woods from far, far off.   
“A white stag,” you whispered and immediately pressed your mouth shut. If the king’s herd is nearby, then you must get away as soon as possible. White deer are extremely cautious and nervous. One snap of a twig from five hundred miles away could cause a stampede.  
You stood up carefully, hand pressed against the trunk of the rowan tree. As you descended, your (e/c) orbs searched the woods for any sight of the white stag.

Snap.

You turned your head around and caught a slight movement from the corner of your eyes. Without your bow and arrow, you felt defenceless. You were not as good with a sword as you are with a bow. And most of the times, it comes more handy.   
You gently pressed your back against the trunk of the tree and placed your hand over the cold hilt. You then held your breath before quickly unsheathing the weapon and moving from the tree at the same time. However, nothing lay behind the trunk but more trees.   
“Perhaps a weasel or a bird,” you murmured before sheathing your sword once more. You were, however, unsatisfied. You stepped further into the woods, sword still clutched firmly as your eyes then wander curiously. And there was another movement from the corner of your eyes and you moved swiftly, sword pointed forward. The tip then landed against thin silver and leaning against the other side of the rowan tree was-  
“Thranduil.” You lower your sword then and moved back. The prince was pressed firmly against the trunk, head insistently looking away. Frustration and bashfulness was painted all over his face as his cerulean orbs glare at nothing.   
“Why did it lead me here,” he murmured to himself with a scowl and gritted teeth. According to his attire, the prince was on a hunt. Then, perhaps the white stag was his target. You looked away in thought for a moment before sheathing your sword and giving the prince a bow. Then, he began to watch you once you’ve averted your gaze.  
“I apologise for getting in your way, your highness.” You then immediately returned to the clearing and grabbed the bag on the floor. The rustle of the leaves and grass from behind the tree then momentarily caught your attention. Nonetheless, you still proceeded to cover your shoulders with the travelling cloak.   
“How long will you keep this up? For three ages? Or possibly more?” The question was genuine, but it still made you pause. You pulled the rest of your (h/c) locks from the bind of the collar of the cloak before turning to face the prince. His cerulean eyes were still hard to read, as if some ancient code. You will never figure them out.   
“I do not understand why you would be concerned, your highness,” you replied in a quiet murmur but the prince heard it. An unsettling stillness settled over the trees and beneath the forest floor. It was unnerving.   
"So,” the prince then stepped in the clearing, arms crossed as his eyes everted to the ground as he began to circle you. “If I had not met you today, then this… Unruly behaviour would have lasted for thousands of years. We will never meet each other’s gazes ever, we will never speak, except for the share of few, insignificant words. We will never feel comfort within each other’s presence, and perhaps also nothing, except the great need to leave the space as soon as possible. If I did not, after all, follow you, then would we have stayed as nothing but associates?” Your eyes also met the ground. If you’re going down, you might as well fall with honesty.   
“I’m afraid so. Aren’t we mere associates, my lord? Even better, strangers. For the last few centuries, I could count with my own hands the amount of time I have shared a proper conversation not regarding of… duties and responsibilities. And I would not even need to lift a finger to know how many times either of us has asked the other of their well-being.” Then, he stopped. His arms fell behind him and from the corner of your eyes, you spotted Thranduil move to face you. And so, you lifted your head and met his stony stare. There was nothing but a dull ache in your chest, but it could be taken care of anytime. Thranduil then tore his stare away.   
“Please send the princess my apologies, and I wish you the best for many years to come,” you whispered and gave the prince his final bow before moving to the elven path once more to hopefully get away. Why you hadn’t brought a horse was beyond your understanding, but you hoped not to encounter anyone else just yet.  
“(Y/n),” the prince called and the faint rustle of the crisp, green grass followed him as he then caught up with you. You, however, pretended to ignore it.   
“What will I tell Legolas?” _Eru, please._ You paused once again and slowly turned around to find the prince standing not a few feet away from you.   
“He cares for you and it would devastate him to find you’ve left without telling him. I am asking too much of you, but please do it for my son,” he was now speaking quietly.  
“And I will repay you when time comes.” Before you could muster a reply, hooves resonatd among the woods. You took a couple of steps away from the king before the horses emerged from behind the trees. On their backs are elven riders, Feren and his group of guards.   
“My lord, the princess,” Feren panted and Thranduil immediately frowned. You then felt an ache in your throat and met Thranduil’s distraught eyes.

The elven prince stood by the beginning of the bridge over the rushing waters of the river. You stood several feet behind him along with Feren’s group. His cerulean orbs spotted every dent and skid mark on the cobblestone. It was fresh and the stench of rotting corpses still lingered the bridge and soil and trees. Many elven guards also lay on the bridge, some in the water below.   
“Was she harmed?” Thranduil finally asked and Feren raised his head.   
“No, my lord,” the ellith replied. That did not, however, reassure the prince the least.  
“So she was captured. Send word to the king.”  
“He already knows, my lord. His owl arrived a few minutes before the attack and sent warning, so we were able to hold them off. They attacked from the southeast of Rhovanon.” And you met Thranduil at the northwest region. You closed your eyes and lowered your head. Thranduil turned around to quickly glance at you before looking at Feren.  
“And what did the king say?”  
“He will return at once. The council was also warned and decided this will be the best opportunity to hold off Sauron’s army with the Last Alliance. He will discuss the rest with you.” Thranduil turned away once more and dismissed Feren’s group with a wave of his hand. They crossed the bridge at once and rushed back inside the wooden halls. The prince remained by the bridge and so did you. You then looked up and parted your lips.   
“I-“  
“Don’t apologise. You will be my advisor and the commander. Unless, of course, you’re still determined to leave,” he then walked across the bridge. You fell silent, (e/c) stuck on his armoured back as he leaves. You cannot just leave while knowing your friend was in the hands of filthy Easterlings, can you?  
You then sighed and lowered your head. “Yes, my lord.” You then followed Thranduil’s tail and returned inside the Elvenking’s halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just reread the first chapter and there's a shit ton of mistakes. I don't do proofreading that often, so I'm so sorry ;;
> 
> Anyways, I've been busy so more chapters would be added today or whatsoever. And I hope you do enjoy reading this, I have given it a lot of time and it means very much to me. 
> 
> Thank you!


	3. Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She stays lost in the middle of her own world somewhere. We can’t get in and she doesn’t come out. Not often anyway, and certainly not for any length of time. But her mind takes her to somewhere kind, I think, to judge by the peaceful, serene look on her face most of the time. ”  
> -Malorie Blackman, Noughts and Crosses

Upon Oropher’s (and yours) return, everyone was bustling and busy. Errands and letters were sent here and there, countless of councils with men of Isildur and Gil-Galad were held. Everyone was busy, especially you. Ever since accepting the role of an advisor and commander, you were forced to hold training sessions with half of the army and sometimes, the whole of it. You were also summoned here and there, as the prince’s advisor, especially during meetings. You would stand by the prince’s seat and murmur suggestions or join the conversation. Either way, the king would send you a hard glare that you wish you will never meet. And above all else, Thranduil is on edge. Each day, word from Elarrian’s captors arrive and threaten the prince. There were no ransom held, and if there were, Thranduil does not wish to know of it.

“(Y/n),” Legolas called and you put down your spear. Today is the day he leaves. The king and prince thought it was best to hide Legolas away during the duration of the war, just for safety. He was, most of all, thoroughly confused especially after the disappearance of his mother.  
“Legolas,” you sighed and moved towards him. He was nearly past your hips now. He is growing fast.  
“You will take care of yourself, yeah? Think of it as a brief vacation, you will be back in no time.” You murmured quietly and Legolas looked down, eyebrows furrowed.  
“Everyone thinks I am daft. I know what’s going on, I don’t see a reason why they must hide it away from me. Nana has been taken away, and everyone is going to take her back. Why can I not come?” The young elf’s shoulders drooped as he sighed. You moved down to crouch before him and lifted his chin with a curled finger.  
“A battlefield is not a place for you. Yet. And I hope you never set foot on it,” you whispered and Legolas gave a slow, futile nod.  
“Tauriel’s coming with you, too. Isn’t that so? You both can keep each other company, and you two can return once the fighting is over. And once you return, I will teach you both.” The young elf was barely convinced, but the idea made him nod anyway.  
“Then off to your father. Bid them farewell before you go. The prince would be most delighted to know that you will be safe.”

“We will ride to Rivendell and hold council with Lord Elrond and Gil-galad,” Oropher announced shortly after you have arrived at the throne room. Thranduil spared you a quick glance before looking up at the king once more. You stood several feet behind the prince and listened intently. The Elvenking descended down his dais and took the scrolled map one of his guards was holding. He then proceeded to stride down on another corridor and Thranduil followed suit. Following the prince, you went to the drawing room with the captains following behind.  
Oropher unveils the map on the round table in the middle of the room as you gather around it. Thranduil was standing across the king and there was a tense stillness in the room as the king waits for everyone to settle down. And finally, silence falls and the king cleared his throat before speaking.  
“Gil-galad’s men come from a long way. He will ride with them and meet our troops before riding to Rivendell. After holding one, final council, we will gather the troops once more and find a suitable meeting location. Lord Elrond suggested that we make encampment in the Brown Lands,” Oropher finished with a deep furrow in his brow. His dark, blue eyes then searched for the people around the table.  
“It would expose us to the enemy. We are on open ground and risks of an ambush are extremely high.” Thranduil gave a considerate mumble afterwards and Oropher averted his glare to his son. Oropher nodded and looked back at the map.  
“So I’ve said,” the king replied quietly. Thranduil quickly glanced at his father before turning to you with a questioning gaze. And as if smelling your tension, Oropher turned towards you as well, blue eyes holding an icy flame beneath, ready to lash at you in any moment. You spared them both quick glances before averting to the map and clearing your throat.  
“Er, yes, we cannot camp at the Brown Lands. Since we will be in the company of Amdir’s men, it will be best to meet Gil-galad and Elrond’s armies in the Vales of Anduin. I suppose Elendil will already be in the company of the High King of Noldor, so it will be easier to march towards _Emyn Lithui_ ,” you paused upon feeling everyone’s eyes on you and you pressed your lips in a hard line and looked away from the king, and back onto the map. There was momentary silence before Oropher turned his icy stare away and standing upright.  
“It is settled, then. I will speak to Lord Elrond and Gil-galad of your suggestion. As for dispatch, I will bring a small group of soldiers with me in Rivendell and you, Thranduil, will lead them.” The prince looked up at his father and gave a firm nod. Oropher turned to you once more.  
“And you will lead our army to the Vales of Anduin and meet with Amdir before meeting with Imladris’s army. And if anything should go wrong during the battle, remember that there are two kings. Answer to one of them.” Oropher fixed his stare at the elf prince before turning around, his Lincoln green garment fluttering as he makes way for the exit of the drawing room. That was his call for dismissal and everybody else left. You and the prince lingered for a while longer before turning to each other and sharing a fixed stare.  
“I believe the map is now yours to keep, commander.” Thranduil finally said after the last captain has left. His hands took hold of the edge of the map and delicately, he rolled it back into a scroll and you grabbed the golden ring that kept it closed. You handed the ring to the prince and he took it, slipping the map inside it, and handing it to you.  
“I do not think this war will end well, there is a terrible feeling in my chest that tells me so,” you said and looked away from the prince as you hesitantly took the map. Thranduil stepped around the table.  
“War never ends well for many, but for us, it will. Cherish that instinct of yours, it will come handy.”  
“How can you say it will end well for _us?_  Sauron has already settled two strongholds, one in Angmar and one in Mordor. Where do you suppose they are hiding my Lady Elarrian in?” Thranduil paused from his way to the door and you lowered your head. Silence from the prince was never good, for his patience and tolerance is just as little as his father’s. You were thankful at times, however, for his ability to handle it better around you.  
“If I do not save her, then I will never forgive myself,” was the prince’s quiet reply before he strides past the doors and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’ve been holding back. You closed your eyes and bent over the table, the cold, smoothed stone cold against your fingers.

 _A voice. A voice sings in the distance. You can hear it, but there is nothing but darkness. You can, however, feel your limbs._  
_‘Upon the halls of elves rest a restless soul,’ it sang. It was heavenly, yet melancholy. You then open your eyes and met bright, blue ones. They look down at you fondly, and they hold a strange warmth and love in them. The sight grew clearer and you could make out the face of an elf, young and fair, with porcelain skin that glowed within the moonlight’s grasp. Her hair was platinum, it was almost silver. It was curly, yet it flowed freely over her shoulders and her back. She wore a white slip that danced slightly from the whispering winds that came from the open window beside you and the windowsill._  
_‘Heart, kindled by flames of a dragon most fowl. The brightest star is her eyes, and they cry and howl,’ the lady sang once more and she reached out a hand slender hand and there was warmth in your cheeks. One is cupped by the lady’s hand but the other is stained with tears falling from the lady’s eyes._  
_‘Her fate stirred and played and in agony she yowls,’ she paused with a sob from her throat and then pulled her hand away._  
_‘And within the shadow and blood, Earandil would rise with Agamir to hold up their goblet of silver and gold.’ The lady finished and soon returned her hand to put a necklace around your neck. You barely caught a glimpse of it, but you recognised it. It was the silver necklace with deer antlers as a pendant._  
_‘Oh, my poor, poor daughter. What Eru has planned for you, I do not wish to know any further.’ The lady then stormed away from you as she weeps._

You wake up slowly and your eyes met the dark ceiling of your old chamber. Adnir was sitting by the edge of your bed, golden eyes watching you worriedly.  
“You’re awake,” she murmured desperately and you look up at her.  
“What’s going on?”  
“You were crying. What did you dream of?”  
_What did I dream of?_  
All of a sudden, you stand up and walk to your dresser. On its top sits the silver necklace and it glowed from the moonlight from the windows. You grab it and suddenly, the ache in your throat returned. You heard whispers and faint cries, begging you to put the jewellery on and uncover the untold story. But you put it away and shake your head. Now is not the time. Admir only watches you quietly as you wipe your tears away.  
“What time is it?” You ask as you turn back to her. She then stood up and you noticed she is already in her uniform.  
“It’s nearly dawn and I was preparing for my duties, but I saw you were still in bed and, well, crying. So, I ought to wake you up,” she explained and your eyes slightly widened.

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty dang short.


	4. Mellifluous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The main thing to do is pay attention. Pay close attention to everything, notice what no one else notices. Then you'll know what no one else knows, and that's always useful.”  
> ― Jeanne DuPrau, The City of Ember

“I’m sorry, I’m late,” you pant as you finally arrive at the sorting place, the East Bight, where the horses are gathered. Today was the day of the army’s departure and the king and his small group of soldiers had finally left for Rivendell. Gallion glares down at you from his horse and you quickly return the glare before mounting your red stallion. You then trot around the foot soldiers dressed in golden armour, along with archers and spearmen. They were aligned neatly from rank to rank in even rows and columns. The army were flanked by more lancers on horses and you were yet to take your place at the front. Gallion, being your trustee second-in-command, joins your side as you finally lead the army. You pause at the front and turned to Gallion.  
“Has the captains already told their divisions about our destination?” Gallion glanced at you and shook his head.  
“No, the king did it for us. He left us a sermon before they left and he was furious you were not there. The prince would have pulled him away if he needed to, and thankfully he did,” the elf said and you shook your head.  
“Thank all, he didn’t take my position away.” You then took the horn from your horse’s saddle and blew it once. You and Gallion then set your horses into a trot as you then set for the Great River, _Anduin_. The army followed behind your lead in a march that disturbed the woods and its animals. You marched around the rest of the southern parts of the woods. On one side lay the great forest and on the other is a great, brown field with the silhouette of the _Ered_ _Lithui_ peeking from the horizon. The march lasted a couple of hours from the quick and light paces elves, but not much conversation was shared between you and Gallion, except for a few questions of ‘are we going the right way?’ and ‘are we there yet?’s. Shortly, you arrive at the banks of the great river and you tug your horse to a stop. The rest of the army pauses behind you. From across the river are Amdir’s men, stationary at the field ahead. The King of Lorien was standing and watching your army. You look at him and he raises a hand and waves it towards him.  
_“Tolo!”_ You exclaim and then trot your horse across the river. Thankfully, the king has picked out the shallowest waters and has offered assistance. Some of his men helped the horses falling back. You helped as well, once you are through, and left your horse by the banks. It was snorting and nodding, while pawing the ground as it watches you in the middle of the river leading a horse across.

“Amdir, _melehtacca_ ,” you call as you approach the elf king. He was old, that everyone knows of, yet he still held the beauty and regal of an elf. Some say he was born way before the Year of the Trees, and some say he was born in the First Age. The elf king then turned to you and you both share a greeting of the right fist over your left chest. He takes a couple of steps towards you and his bright, green eyes shimmered kindly.  
“Thank you very much for your assistance, my lord. It is little, but most definitely counted.” The king smiles and shakes his head.  
“Do not mention it…”  
“(Y/n), commander of the Woodland elves.” Amdir nods and looks behind you to look at the two armies resting at the Field of Celebrant. Some were taking their horses to drink and some were chatting.  
“We will stay here for the night. Tell your men.” You quickly glance at Amdir and nod. You then return to your army and faintly overheard the elf lord order the same thing to one of his captains. You approach Gallion.  
“We will camp here tonight, tell the other half.”

The evening has settled and the skies were undeniably clear, for it was speckled with bright stars and moon. You were resting by the grass, head on a rock. Most of the soldiers, Lorien and Sylvans alike, were gathered around campfires, resting or eating or chatting. You were staring up at the stars with a hand place over your torso. In that hand, you were clutching the silver necklace and even from the dark, it shone brightly. And then, there were faint hooves that echoed from the distance. You did not mind it, however, since nobody else stirred. If it were Elendil and Gil-galad’s company, then there would have been a horn or Amdir standing to greet them. You were, however, wrong. There was a silent crumple of autumn grass coming towards you and you look up to find the  _Sindar_ prince's cerulean orbs as he approaches. You then stand up immediately and he stops. Once you were at his side, Thranduil finally spoke.  
“My father looks for you. He is still infuriated about your agenda this morning.” You stopped yourself from speaking when you hinted the hidden amusement in his tone. You then sigh and only followed the prince back to the encampment. You found two more armies of elves gathered at the great field and you felt eyes on you and the prince as you both step out of the shadow of the outskirts of Lorien. Oropher and Elrond’s eyes were two of them, one glaring and the other observing.  
“You have quite the audience,” Thranduil murmured quietly with a scoff before walking ahead and leaving you to deal with your king. You swore to challenge the prince in a duel later on and mock him with his upcoming defeat.  
“Commander. I’m surprised you’re here, I thought you were not coming,” were the king’s greeting as soon as you stopped before him. Gallion made sure he was nearby so he could catch the conversation and you caught him snickering from the back of his hand. If you saw, then you are sure Oropher saw it as well. The king paid it no mind, however, and proceeded to scold you.  
“Where were you this morning?” He asked as he then stepped inside his shared tent and you followed inside. There were servants setting up armour on both stands and you guessed they were his and his son’s.  
“I woke up a little late, my king. I am terribly sorry.”  
“You are forgiven.” You paused and looked up at the king who turned to face you. “You are dismissed.” He turned around again and you quickly stormed out of the tent. But as soon as you stepped out, you saw Celeborn of the fallen Eregion was looking at you. His blue eyes shimmered even in the dark and they gleamed in a nostalgic way. It felt so familiar, but the confusion was slightly more overwhelming. Was he here to help, or to bring word? Disturbed by the _Sindar_ elf’s stare, you then turned away and resumed to return to your previous spot before Thranduil's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO
> 
> I HAD TO DELETE THIS BECAUSE IT'S SO ABSOLUTELY INACCURATE but it's /almost/ fixed now
> 
> I'm so sorry;;;;;;;


	5. Great March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.”  
> ― Richard Adams, Watership Down

“Up.” You stirred slightly and attempted to cover yourself from the blinding light hovering over you with your hand.  
“Was it too close?” You grumbled incomprehensively before finally opening your eyes and finding yourself looking up at Thranduil, holding a lamp over you. He was dressed in his silver armour, and you immediately stood up.  
“How many minutes?”  
“Not yet. I only prepared early, and you should too. We will leave in half an hour. Eat first before arming yourself.” The prince then hands you the oil lamp and you noticed the campfires were put out.

_That’s why it’s cold._

“One of the soldiers on night watch saw a flock of black birds flying our way and so they immediately put out the fire. Although I doubt that barely helped. If they were Sauron’s spies, then their main purpose would be to see in day and in night.” You glanced at the back of the prince’s neck quickly as you follow him back towards the camp. A small group of Sylvan and Lorien elves have already prepared.  
“I will help you with your armour, and we will go to Gil-galad’s tent. _Adar_ says we must oversee everything before moving.” You nod and follow the prince into the armoury, which was set up in a wide, wide tent. Others are also underneath it, wearing their armours. You approach your stand and grab the breastplate.  
“I think it is wise that they do, actually. Will I then be an advisor or a captain?” You mocked the prince genuinely as you share him a ridiculed glance. Thranduil scoffed as he took the golden breastplate from you and handed you a silver chainmail instead.  
“You will be a guard.” You slip the chainmail over your torso before taking the breastplate from him and putting it on.  
“Good for me, then.” You chuckled and strapped the shoulder plates over your shoulder while Thranduil does the other. After the gauntlets, Thranduil insisted he must go to the tent already and you armoured yourself on your own. You chose the bow and arrow and sealed the burgundy quiver over your right hip. Your sword is sealed on the other. You then put on your helmet before grabbing your bow and heading out of the armoury. You spotted Gil-galad’s tent and saw Thranduil waiting outside. You jog towards the tent, unintentionally waking up some of the sleeping soldiers, but that’s good, isn’t it?

“Never mind, you’re both an advisor and a captain,” the elf prince said and took the helmet off your head swiftly.  “Hurry.” You sigh and held your helmet between your waist and arm. Thranduil moves an arm behind your neck and untucks your hair from the armour. He then stepped inside and you followed. Oropher, Elrond, Amdir and Gil-galad are already dressed in their armours and are gathered around a table. Their eyes glanced at Thranduil and you for a moment before turning back to each other.  
“(Y/n), the map.” You then paused. You look down and reach for the pockets of your tunic beneath the armour and was barely able to take the map (now folded into six) out of it. But thank god, you did. You handed the map to Oropher’s waiting hand before taking a step back. You heard the rustle of paper as the Elvenking unfolds the map over the table. Thranduil joined the circle while you remained standing by the lapels of the tent, standing straight with your hand resting on the hilt of your blade. Thranduil noticed your response and gave you a quick glare.  
‘Come here,’ he mouthed and you blinked once before quietly rushing towards the small group around the table. As it turns out, they were waiting for you, as you guessed from the look Oropher sent you before he turned to the map. The High King of Gondor and Amor then also stepped into the tent with Isildur, his heir, following behind. They joined the ring and Gil-galad stood upright.  
“Since every person needed is gathered, then we could start.” 

The council lasted for more than half an hour, nearly forty-five minutes. All that needs to be discussed has been settled. The kings expect more companions of skin-changers and several great eagles. Amdir has sent word to the King of Arda, Manwel Sulimo and could only offer little help. Gil-galad and Elendil are especially delighted to have at least heard word from Manwe and his little contribution is counted as big help. The time the council finished, the sun was already rising from the east. You step out of the tent after Thranduil does.

“(Y/n).” Oropher calls and you stop a few feet away from the Elvenking.  
“Tell your men to get ready, we are to march soon.” You then nod and left and you wear your helmet as you go. You take the horn from the hoist on your waist and blew it once. Shortly, your troops were lined by the banks of _Anduin._ Next to your army are Isildur’s men, then Elrond and Gil-galad’s, then Amdir’s. You rode on your horse behind Oropher’s and on Thranduil’s left. On his right is Gallion. Behind you is your army, flanked by spearmen on horses. On the front lines were also spearmen, then swordsmen, then archers. And earlier, Oropher has given strict word that you and your men will march under Gil-galad’s banner.

Meanwhile, Celeborn met Elrond once out of the High King’s tent. He led the lord away into the outskirts of the thin strip of forest.  
“Elrond,” Celeborn addressed quietly and the elven lord nodded.  
“Celeborn.” The Noldor lord addressed the fair-haired _Eldar_. Celeborn hesitated greatly before he sighed.  
_*“Agamir mende cwivranna si ohta. Ertirite.”_ Elrond raised his head to look up at the other elf.  
_“Agamir?”_  
“Nao.”  
_“Mende caris antaresta?”_  
_“Taie ten i limlug natulca.”_ Elrond parted his lips to speak once more before he decided to remain silent and lower his head. Celeborn looked at him.  
“You needn’t worry. As foul as she is, she is still a guardian of an unknown realm. She will at least lend you blessing, for she will rise from our side.” Elrond nodded, slower this time, before sending the fair-haired lord his farewell and watching him depart back to the woods of Lorien. The elven lord, now deeply disturbed, went and mounted his horse and rode beside Gil-galad. Upon the horn of Elendil and Gil-galad, the soldiers marched down the banks of the Great River.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we on track already? Hopefully.
> 
>  
> 
> _* "Agamir shall rise upon this war. Remain vigilant."_  
>  _"Agamir?"_  
>  _"Yes."_  
>  _"Will she lend us her hand, then?"_  
>  _"That is for the serpent to decide."_


	6. The Foulest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.”   
> ― Alfred Tennyson

The march lasted for five days. On the second day, skin-changers disguised as men now joined the troops and on the third, Manwe’s great eagles have arrived. And on the same day, the troops paused and camped on the hills. About eight soldiers were sent out to scout while everyone prepares tents and campfires. The retainers went and fed the horses and brought them near the bank for water. You finally finished setting up the torch on either side of the Sylvan king’s tent’s lapels since the sun is about to set. It will be needed later. You moved away from the torches and sighed. Thranduil was assessing your soldiers moving about the slopes of the hills although it was supposed to be your job (he somehow convinced you to trade his night watch job for this one). You sit yourself down on a small boulder by a fire and sighed. Galion joined you afterwards. He handed you one goblet of Lorien wine and urged you to drink it with a nod.  
You stare at him blankly before looking down at the wooden goblet almost full of golden, crystal liquid. You stir it slightly before looking back at Galion, eyebrows now furrowed.  
“How did you get this?” You asked and Galion waved you off before drinking from his own goblet. After gulping his fill, he cleared his throat.  
“I made friends. Now hurry, before anyone finds out.” You scoff at Galion’s grin before taking two or three gulps of your own share of the wine. Then, you move the wooden rim from your lips away and hum. It wasn’t as tough and rich as the usual Dorwinian, but it still left an impression. You and Galion chatted by the fire for quite some time until both your liquor had finally gone. Galion insisted he return the goblets before anyone notices, but you’re sure someone already has.  
When the Sylvan elf left, you spotted Thranduil looking at you from his spot, arms crossed and his thick, dark eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. You parted your lips to call out to him, but he turned away and began his duty again. You just sighed and stripped yourself of your golden armour, now dusty from the journey. You remind yourself to give it a cleaning before leaving once more tomorrow.  
You were distracted by a merry chortle approaching and you raise your head to find Galion, still carrying both goblets. He had refills. You grin loosely before shaking your head and accepting the other goblet as your friend descends down on the ground  
After the third goblet, you denied Galion’s offers already. You still had a duty. And the alcohol finally took effect when you finally had to climb higher upon the hills and find yourself an efficient spot. Everyone’s almost sleeping when you got there, tripping and stumbling on the way. You quietly cursed yourself for having a weak spot for alcohol but stopped when you spotted platinum tresses on top of the hills. You looked up at the crown and blinked.  
Thranduil looked down and met your (e/c) orbs. His cerulean eyes were glaring intensely. However, you still made a bow as a regard for the prince before joining him at the top.  
“Go rest. This will be the last favour you’ll get from me.” He spoke quietly and you glanced up at him. You insistently shake your head before sighing and looking down at the wide camp by the foot of the hills.  
“No, I’ll be fine.” You murmur and you swore you spotted Thranduil roll his eyes.  
“How many bruises have you had trying to climb here?”  
“…Four. B-But it was really steep and rocky!”  
“You climb trees every day.” You then fell silent and merely pursed your lips as you kept your eyes on the camp. Everyone’s almost asleep. Even the light inside the tents have already been put out. You let out a faint breath from your lips before slowly sitting down on the ground.  
“At least sit down.” You called up to the prince quietly and he looked down at you. You met his eyes and found they’re still glaring. He sighed after a few moments and sat down on the grass beside you. You chew on your cheek and returned your attention back to the camp.  
“I know you’re scared.” You whispered, afraid that anyone, beast or whatnot, might hear. Thranduil hummed as a reply and you weren’t quite sure whether he agreed or not.  
“You worry that we might not arrive in time.” Now, the prince slightly lowered his gaze. He still kept silent, however.  
“I am also afraid. Elarrian is important to me, and I would like to apologise for neglecting her for centuries. I cannot imagine Greenwood’s halls without her in it, Thranduil.” Only upon these tense, but comforting silent hours do you allow yourself to call the prince by his name. He told you before he did not mind it, but as you said several months ago, the prince is slowly changing. Now you weren’t quite sure if the prince still didn’t mind it.  
“I told you that we will save her. That’s why we must win or else we die.” You look at Thranduil and he sighed.  
“I will not speak of something unlikely. We will retrieve her and I will hear no more.” You press your lips in a firm line before looking away and nodding.  
“Right.” You then bring your knees up and folded your arms over it. You then press your forehead against the folded arms and let the gentle breeze and the sound of the other person’s slow, deep breaths lull you to sleep.

_Snow. Wherever you look is snow. You look up at the dark, grey skies and noticed the gentle flurries of white slowly descending down into its pile on the ground. You move yourself from the railing of the balcony before turning around. This was an unfamiliar place, yet moving about the room is a familiar figure._

_Elrond._

_He was moving about the bookshelves, rearranging books and removing some._

_‘My lord, where is this?’ you attempted to ask but no sound came from your lips. Your eyes slightly widened and noticed the elven lord pause for a moment and look at the balcony you’re in. His dark eyes are searching and asking. After a moment, he turned away and began to move about the room once more. He fixed the bed neatly, just as you would expect from the whole arrangement of the room, before leaving. You shout out to him but then again, no words came out from your mouth. You ran after him and from his slow, walking pace, you managed to stand in his way._

_However, he walked straight through you and for a moment, you were stolen of your breath. You gasped and clutched your chest once he’s passed and you fell to your knees. What dream is this?_

_‘It’s horrible, isn’t it?’ A smooth, sweet voice then said in a tantalising tone. You look up only to find another she-elf standing down the hallway, across you. She was your splitting image except her tresses were a light brown, nearly blonde. It was tied in a long braid behind her, with its ends nearly touching the floor. Both her side fringes were also in small, long braids falling over her shoulders and down to her hips. All three braids were kept in place by golden ringlets._  
_The elf wore a very light silver dress and around her waist is a golden sash. Over her shoulders is a scarlet, velvet cloth. It was pinned by her arms and swept down behind her and left a red trail behind. Her eyelashes were long and it adorned a pair of bright, golden eyes shimmering with malice. Her pink, plump lips were curled into a cruel grin, revealing a set of white, sharp fangs. She wore a silver circlet around her head. The first tines curled down into almost the shape of an ‘M’ and the second tines curled more elegantly. The base’s tips then rose like a menacing branch, and so did the next three tines. On the joint of the circlet is a round, red gem gleaming as brightly as her golden eyes._

_Something about this elf doesn’t feel right._

_You slowly rise to your feet, keeping your guard and your eyes on the strange ellith. She then chuckled lowly and raised her head._  
_“So, you don’t know me.” She whispered but you heard her loud and clear, for her voice echoed all around you. She stared back at your (e/c) eyes and her grin widened._  
_“I am Agamir, the dragon.” She murmured and your eyes widened. You couldn’t remember clearly, but you knew she means trouble. The name itself sent you shuddering. You straighten your back._  
_“Are you struggling to remember?” She whispered from behind you. You turned around and found her there, sitting by the sill of the open corridor. When you thought it impossible, you only found her golden eyes gleaming brighter in amusement. You gulped._  
_“That is because you have nothing to remember!” She exclaimed and a sickening giggle followed._  
_“You’re a lying bastard!” You spat back at her and she licked her lips. You couldn’t keep your horrified eyes at the long, slender tongue slithering over her lips. You then looked away and blinked once. This is just a dream._

_“Everything that feels nostalgic, all that you dream of, it is not a memory. It is the future. I can show you everything right now!” Then it hit you. You look up once more, eyes now wide with desperate hope._  
_“Elarrian! Show me Elarrian!” Agamir’s smile faltered momentarily. She then narrowed her eyes._  
_“You first must promise not to use the knowledge to change the future in any way. All that you see here is a future. One, small detail is very critical.” You pressed your lips. If this elf-dragon really did show you where the princess is, would you bear keeping it a secret from Thranduil?_  
_Sensing your hesitation, Agamir frowned and got off the sill. She then spread her maroon wings you didn’t notice she has._  
_“Then you shall wake up.” You look up and hold your hands out in defence._  
_“No! I must know where she is! But I will keep it hidden, I promise!” Agamir sighed and waved her hands._  
_“Fine. But you must remember: should you try to save her, I will disappear,” that sounds great. “Earandil will disappear,” the star? “And you, will disappear.”_  
_The weight of the consequences then dawned upon you. You fell silent and only stared at the elf-dragon with wide eyes. Then, you finally nod slowly._  
_“She is held captive in the north. In Angmar. If you returned to the Great Greenwoods just to save your friend, then… I must say you are failing quite terribly.”_

You sit up awake and panting. It was barely dawn and the skies are still speckled with stars. You keep your eyes up at the small lights until you heard a deep murmur beside you. You slowly looked over and spotted Thranduil sitting, asleep. You slowly regained composure and sighed. You looked down at your feet and furrowed your eyebrows.

  
_‘Everything that feels nostalgic, all that you dream of, is not a memory. It is the future.’_

  
You close your eyes and bury your face in your palms. That dream, was it really real? Was Agamir really real? You hissed out a curse before rising to your feet and sighing. You decided to distract yourself with duties now.  
“Angmar.” You whisper and looked ahead of you. You can see the dark, dark silhouette of the forests of Lorien and Rhovanion and way beyond is nothing but bleak darkness. You quickly tear your eyes away. You promised to keep the knowledge to yourself, but now you are finding it difficult.  
“You are awake,” Thranduil whispered beside you and you looked down at him to find him stir from the grass and raise his head. His tired, half-lidded eyes stare blankly at the sleeping camp below before looking back at you. You return his gaze and your (e/c) orbs stared at his cerulean ones sadly. And it seemed to unsettle him, for his sleepy eyes now slightly widened, awake. His eyebrows then furrowed and you looked away.  
“Something disturbs you.” He murmured and also rose to his feet. You shake your head.  
“It is nothing important.”  
“Still, I wish to know.”  
“It’s just a dream, my lord.” And then there was silence. Your response was half-lie and half-truth. And you feared he was aware, but you badly hoped he was satisfied or at least unwilling to pry, for you promised so dearly to keep it hidden. But then again, would you rather have your life than keep a friend’s? You tightly closed your eyes and lowered your head.

  
Agamir, why do you ever live?

"I will only do this once,” you heard the other whisper. You turned to him and just in time felt his arms (still armoured) fold around your shoulders and pull you close. The cold of his armour was not even your concern at the moment. It is the fact that you feel the warmth of his neck so close to your cheeks. You lower your eyes. Then, you felt a tug and realised it was Thranduil tugging at a small part of your hair. You immediately yelp softly and return the embrace.  
“As... a friend,” he nearly choked. “I am willing to offer you support for as long as you may need it.” You attempted to look at the prince but you have now placed your chin over his shoulder and his arms were pinning you firmly and in place. You just smile and hope he is aware of it.  
“And I promise you the same, _mellon nin_.” He then pulled away and so did you. You took a step back and now looked up at the elven prince. His eyes still held coldness in them, but they were genuine. His face was more relaxed and you thought you had finally seen him in a new light. You smile up at him and murmur a ‘thank you’ and he gave a bow in return.  
You sighed and turned to the camp. After the small oath (you hardly doubt it was one), a heavy feeling left your heart. You felt more at ease and delighted.  
“I think some of my _friends_ are finally awake. Do you want to drink?”

  
After that day, everything else went smoothly. The knowledge of Elarrian still held in captive in _Angmar_ , not _Mordor_ , still troubled you. However, you managed to get it out of your head and no strange dreams came after that. And finally, on the fifth day, Mordor’s summits became more intimidating as you approach.

  
Midday came and the eagles were flying overhead. Then, one of them screeched and then the others. They then flew in circles, crying. Gil-galad thumped his banner on a ground and every elf stopped. Elendil did the same and the two kings shared a glance. Oropher suddenly spoke.  
“(Y/n), scout ahead,” said the elvenking. Gil-galad turned to him and Oropher shared his stare. You waited patiently for your approval, eyes flicking from Oropher to Gil-galad.  
Then, the High King turned to you and gave a nod. You turned to give Thranduil a quick glance before riding your horse forward in a sprint. Everyone else watched you in anticipation as you rode far away from the group. You ride to the Westwang and stop when nearly on the borders of North Ithilien. You held your horn from the saddlebag as your (e/c) eyes searched the horizon. And then there was a deep rumble. You turned your head towards its direction. You looked up at the sky and saw flying arrows coming from the orcs coming forward at their full speed. You quickly turn your horse and run out of the field as fast as you can.  
Arrows fell and pierced the ground below your horse. Some called a close call and one even scratched the hide of the red stallion. It whinnied and ran faster. You then grabbed your horn and blew on it as you rode away, avoiding arrows as best as you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something good
> 
> Finally


	7. Epoch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's those that fight hardest for freedom who are never free.”
> 
>  
> 
> ― David Clement-Davies, Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epoch _(n.)_  
> ?ˈiːpɒk,ˈɛpɒk/
> 
> a particular period of time in history or a person's life.

Thranduil’s eyebrows furrow when he heard the horn from afar. He turned to his father.

“Adar,” he said and Oropher took a deep breath. They waited for a few moments before you appeared within their sight once more. You pulled your horse at a stop in front of Oropher’s.

“Orcs and trolls. They’re moving… hah…forward.” You panted and moved your horse to the side. The kings and lord then look at you and you spare them all a glance. “There are archers. If we will counter the attack, I suggest we put spearmen at the front lines.” You return to your spot. Gil-galad clicked his tongue.

“No, we will wait for them to come,“ but Oropher would not hear it. He then galloped his horse forward.

“Oropher!” Exclaimed Elrond and he attempted to ride ahead to stop him, but Gil-galad held out an arm to stop him. At once, Thranduil charged forward, following his father. You and Galion exchanged hesitant and doubtful glances before following suit and your army followed after. You heard no other sound but the sound of clinking armour and feet. No bird nor beast came with you, neither elf nor men. You kept your pace with a heavy sigh as the sight of Sauron’s army grew closer. Then, you heard it. Amdir’s cry. His horse sprinted past your army and Oropher watched him in disbelief.

“Proceed to the Black Gate!” He called to Oropher and the Sylvan king swerved his horse to the left while Amdir’s men faced the army on the marshes. You followed Oropher quietly, but also worriedly. Both Oropher and Amdir headed irrationally. You turned to Thranduil and noticed he was just as deeply troubled as you were. He turned to you and you gave him a smile – at least the best you could muster.

‘We will win,’ you mouthed. Thranduil nodded and looked forward. No orcs came after you and you were relieved. Until, of course, you and your soldiers arrive at the Black Gate. Oropher pulled his stallion to a halt once you arrive at the clearing. The tall, dark gate loomed overhead and in front of it is an army of orcs and goblins and trolls twice the size of your army. You couldn’t see Oropher but you could see his shoulders falter. You look away.

“In position.” He called, and that was yours. Thranduil looked at you worriedly and you gave him a pat on the shoulder. You trot your horse to the front of Oropher’s and and the horsemen flanking the foot soldiers followed you. Soon, there were a line of elves in stallions at the front, spears and shields prepared. You heard a light rumble behind you and you knew the next line of spearmen are preparing, the archers moving back and the swordsmen moving in the middle. You look at Galion and he shares your glance. You give each other a nod before looking at the army of orcs ahead. There are many, but you have no doubts that there are more behind that black wall.

The horn was finally blown, except it wasn’t yours.

_‘Since I can’t die, I’ll lend you small help,’_ Agamir’s voice rang inside your head. The enemy’s front lines begin walking, then jogging, then sprinting. _‘Don’t be scared, this is just a moment. Remember to fight hard and brave, until you’re almost dead.’_

You take a deep breath and shake Agamir’s voice away from your head. Then, you shout your order. You gave your horse a kick and it sprinted forward. You kept your spear aimed forward as so the others do. Its sharp head then pierced two or three orc heads as you soon clashed against the army. You left the spear pierced to the ground, then you drew one of your swords. Arrows then came from the top of the wall.

“Shield!” Exclaimed Galion and you raise your shields. You felt the small thumps on your shield as the arrows then hit its surface. You swing your sword and slice through an orc and another and another. Then, Thranduil blew your horn. You raised your sword. “Fall back!” You called and your men, fortunately still in horses, moved away from the chaos and rode back to the army of elves. A lot of the enemy’s forces followed, sprinting and coming after the tails of the horses. Half of the spearmen on foot then charged forward, filing past the returning horses and countering the orcs and goblins that came after said horses. You return to Thranduil’s side and panted.

“You won’t need that anymore.” He looked at your shield and you nod slowly in agreement. It was already tattered and dented from the axes and hammers attempting to break it. If Sauron had spent time on their logics, then they would’ve found it easier to tackle a horse than dismantle a shield. You put the shield away and drew both your swords, each connected with a long, golden chain. You saw the elven spearmen drop eventually and the second half now charged forward. They countered those that tried to go forward.

‘ _When will you have fun?’_ Agamir. You tightly shut your eyes and your left hand suddenly began aching, and so did your throat. But it faded as soon as you opened your eyes once more. Oropher then sent out the swordmen and you and Thranduil and Galion took their front, swords ready. And for the second time, you countered the orcs. But the more they dropped, the more that came forward. Arrows from your side then flew and almost took down the whole of the now fourth group, still waiting to attack. Arrows from the Black Gate then flew down to the battle and you managed to hit some of it away with your sword. One, however, caught your shoulder and you hissed. Then, your horse fell down and you came with it. Your leg was pinned from the dead horse’s sides and you couldn’t move. You look up to find an axe coming down to assure your death. You raise your left hand and blocked the axe with it. Galion then spurred forward and stabbed the orc away. You were quickly helped by another elven soldier and you felt your leg was quite sore from the impact when you stood up. Once the third group is done, the rest of the fourth and fifth charged forward.

“Goblins, fast and agile.” Thranduil murmured beside you as you and the rest of the elves took a step back. He then looked over your shoulder and frowned.

“You were hit.”

“I will be fine.”

“Fall back on the third charge.”

“No, I said I will be fine.” Thranduil gently glared down at you as you return the heated stare. He then looked away and back at the goblins charging forward.

“At least pull it out.” You nod and removed the arrow stuck on your shoulder. You hissed and tossed it on the ground. Then, the second group of swordsmen were now aligned behind you, the prince and Galion. You charged forward once more, along with arrows from your side.

-

Three years.

That hell lasted for three years.

You are victorious, _but for what cost?_

You rest your tattered body on the foot of the nearest hill by the field of Dagorlad. Orcs, elves and men and whatever beast lay beside you and before you in an enternal slumber, save for the very few that had survived. The Noldor elves had arrived just in time that day or your army would have been massacred. Sauron saw everything coming, and had tripled the number of his forces. And if it weren’t for Isildur, Elendil’s heir, victory would’ve been impossible. And then the survivors rested and let everything sink in. Galion survived.

He would be seen later on, approaching the last Elvenking. Ah, yes, the _Elvenking_.

You look up from the dusty ground tainted with dried blood and saw from the entrance of the Black Gate the Sindar elf, his long, platinum blond tresses dirty and tangled. His armour was long gone, his clothes tattered. His back now littered with scars and wounds, fresh and still healing. The sudden king of the Great Greenwoods, Thranduil, son of Oropherion. The elves rallied to the Black Gate in a desperate fight. Oropherion lead the army that time – at least yours and what’s left of Amdir’s – and they held off almost half of the army Sauron later on sent out. But it was still futile for the Elvenking. And if it weren’t for Gil-galad arriving, you would have been dead by now. Thranduil would have been dead by now. Galion would have been dead by now. However, one secret still remains in you. Not of Elarrian, but of something else. Something that the survivors of the War of The Last Alliance would only remember and keep secret or tell tales of. You look down, eyes grim.

“You must leave.” Said a once silky voice, now rasped from exhaustion and constant yelling. Elrond stood behind you, eyes watching Thranduil. You then look up at the elven lord and he returned your gaze.

He rallied, too, when Gil-galad fell. You had witnessed his grief and shock when it first happened. A blow from Sauron himself sent the High King to his death, and once it sunk in to everybody, you saw how grief-stricken the elven lord was. It haunted you. You look away and shake your head.

“No, I cannot leave. I am Thranduil’s friend and I will not leave. Not now, not ever.”

“You do not understand what is inside you is a constant trigger. And if it may get out of hand, it is either your people’s destruction or yours.” You listened intently, still. You then close your eyes and take a deep, heavy sigh, attempting to keep away the pressure building in your chest.

“Your aide and I will console him, if it need be. You needn’t worry.” Elrond then stepped down the slope and you quietly watched him stroll slowly across the battle plain. Then, you also look at Thranduil.

“May I tell him that I will leave?” You murmur briskly. Your throat hurt from talking. Elrond stopped and let his shoulders heave as he sighs. “Suit yourself. Should he attack you, try not to fight back.”

-

“Thranduil.” The Sindar elf remained staring at the entrance of the Black Gate, which was partly opened from the earlier battle. You only keep your eyes fixated on his back. “Thranduil, I… I’m sorry.” You look away and he slightly turned his head over his shoulder. From his perspective, he should be able to get a good glimpse at you. You remained quiet when he slowly turned around. You didn’t wish to look at him, but you did anyway.

More than half his face is burned, flesh and tendon and bone now peeking from the giant burn across his face. It reached down to his neck and stopped by his left nape. The left side of his face and neck was fully burnt, left eye now only white. The right side of his face was not as badly burnt. The damage only spread from across the bridge of his nose and most of his chin. His right eye still held its cerulean pupil and iris. And he was glaring.

“Word arrived from home. Elarrian’s corpse was sent to the drawbridge two mornings past. She was held in Angmar, and you knew of it.” You look away and did not move when you heard the hiss of a blade. You only closed your eyes and lowered your head.

“I am so sorry,” you mumbled. Then, you quickly opened your eyes when you felt your right sword pulled out of your sheath. You found Thranduil shoving the blade into your hands and point you his.

Oh.

“Thranduil, you’re in no state to battle!”

“Do not give me excuses, we rallied for three years!”

“Thranduil!” You tried to get your sword back into its sheath but Thranduil had already kicked your torso and you took a step back from the impact before falling back.

“We will fight until each one of us dies. That is your oath, isn’t it? _I will hold my sword for my home, my shield for my people, my honor for my prince and my life for my king for as long as the trees of the Great Greenwood grow_. That was your oath. Do you not fulfil it?!” You attempted to get up but Thranduil pressed his foot on your chest and pinned you back down.

“And I am now your king.” You look up at Thranduil. He was crying. You let yourself relax under his foot and let him point the tip of his sword on your throat. You loosely wrap your hands around his ankle and met his eyes. They both looked ghostly and alien – foreign and unusual. But you still knew he was dedicated to his intentions, as much as he was dedicated and loyal to the words of his father, the late king.

_‘Let it happen.’_

“Firebringer, I am afraid there is no more home for you. No more people and prince. No more king, and no more life.” Thranduil then slowly pierced your throat while you only kept your (e/c) eyes on his and they stared back with so much grief and anger clouding his right eye. You then began to choke and feel breathing become painful. You spewed painfully and blood dripped from the corner of your lips to your cheek. However, you felt no pain in your fea. There was only peace and resignation. You finally smile weakly and choke out words.

_“Thranduil, I love you.”_ And along with that came your final, sharp sigh as the elven blade pierced through your neck. Thranduil closed his eyes when yours were drained off of life with his very blade. Then he pulled out said weapon and sighed heavily. His people was finally safe from another, possible evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo someone's been busy
> 
> im sorry


	8. Ethereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Grace will meet you in the valley, and her song will carry you home on the wind to another sky filled with ethereal beauty unfolding and love everlasting.”  
> ― Shannon L. Alder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ethereal _(adj.)_  
>  ɪˈθɪərɪəl
> 
> Extremely delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world.

_‘Farendir, what do you say?’_

_‘I think it is well. She will be well. The new age has finally begun and it has been centuries since. I think it is time.’_

_‘I think so, too. But would it be wise?’_

_‘The Guardian and The Hisser both must now awaken, Adnir. And you must help them.’_

_‘Yes, I know my duties. But is it really wise to leave the job to him? He is cold and distant, ignorant and arrogant. Heartless, even. I only believe he will brood her evil.’_

_‘I am certain he is the key to all of our plans. We must trust in him. We are trying to do several things at once in a desperate hour. This is all that we have. Now, we have stalled too long. Let her free.’_

It was the middle of the night. Celebrian lay in her bed, writhing and gasping painful breaths, She holds to the sheets firmly with her left hand and Elrond’s hand on the other. The elven lord sits beside her, leaning over his beloved wife and providing whatever comfort he could bring. He would bury his face in her hair and whisper comforting words in her ear, as he, too, worries for his wife’s well-being. Celebrian forcefully opened her bright, sapphire orbs. They stare painfully up at Elrond and he cupped her cheek with his other hand.

“You are doing great, _meldanya. Melinyel, melinyel."_  He murmured and stroked her pure, silver tresses glowing blue from the moonlight out of the window. The midwife was between Celebrian’s legs, sputtering words of comfort and encouragement. Celebrian then tightly shut her eyes and threw her head back into the pillows as she let out a painful wail and Elrond saw her struggle to push out their child. He wishes to help, but he knew she must do this on her own.

After two more hard pushes from Celebrian, she then collapses onto the bed, panting raggedly and now an infant’s cry fills the room and the silent halls. Elrond immediately averted his gaze from Celebrian and to the midwife, who had moved to the basin to clean the newborn child. The ellith was still awake, but weary. Her tired, sapphire eyes also watch the midwife. Then she turns to them and in her arms, she cradles a small child now only whimpering now that a warm cloth has provided it warmth. Elrond held Celebrian’s hand with both of his as the midwife walked to him. She then handed the newborn elf to the elven lord and he gently cradles it in his arms, the fourth time he had done so.

Elrond turns to Celebrian and their eyes met. There is so much love and joy in them, smiles in their faces. Both were tires, but one was more weary than the other. Elrond cradles the child in one arm and helped Celebrian lean against the headboard of their bed with the other. Then, he carefully gives his wife their fourth child. The midwife silently left the room to give the couple peace and privacy.

“She is beautiful.” Celebrian whispered hoarsely, throat still sore from the labour. Elrond only smiled down at the resting child in his beloved’s arms. Pale, rosy skin, streaks of rich, brown hair sitting atop its head and small, chubby arms curled and resting over its chest.

“She glows so bright even in the bright moon. I will name her Mithrel” Elrond murmured and wrapped an arm around Celebrian’s shoulder. She leans over the elven lord and sighs merrily.  
_"Melinyel, meldanya."  
"Melinyel."_

Days turn into months and months turn into years. Years turn into decades and the small child turns into a bright ellith at the age of 70, the equivalent of 18 for men. All was peaceful in the homely home of Rivendell, especially with the four, bright children of Elrond Peredhel. Many patrons would visit and give praise to them. Guests would arrive on business terms, but still never fail to get to know a thing about the sons and daughters or two. Mithrel was the least popular, as her father insists she keeps discreet about her identity from the residents of Middle-Earth that had never ever taken a step near Rivendell or its mountains and roads. And to make sure the youngest remembers who comes in and out of her home, Elrond made her the captain of his guard. Although, she seemed more like a messenger. The elf twins would often come with her when sending messages to other realms such as Erebor, Ironhills or even The White City itself. Sometimes Arwen would accompany her instead, when the twins are on other duties or simply don’t wish to come. But often, she comes by herself. She does not tell her receivers of her identity unless they recognise her. It’s most of the times only “captain and courier of Imladirs, sent by Lord Elrond Peredhel.”

She grew tall, slightly taller than Arwen, with long, brown hair reaching slightly past her hips. Her face was fair chiselled, with high cheekbones. She looked very much like Celebrian, especially the eyes. What caught the other elves off guard, especially Elrond, is that she did not bear her father’s eyes. Instead, they were (e/c), though Celebrian and Elrond saw this as a charm, instead of an omen. Although sometimes, during her studies with Erestor, she would spot his father from the library, standing and watching her, as if studying her as much as Erestor studies his books and whatever else he finds interesting. And then the elven lord would turn away and mumble to himself. Mithrel did not let it bother her, but it still stayed in her mind.

“My lady, my lord calls for you.” Lindir announced as he interrupts her afternoon break by the sill of the halls of Rivendell. Mithrel mumbled an ‘I will be there’ before downing the rest of her wine and standing up. Then, she followed Lindir to the council room.  
“What is it about, Lindir?” She genuinely asked as she walked side by side with the elven aide. Lindir gave her a quick glance and a smile.  
“The Elvenking has not been attending the council quite recently, so Lord Elrond insists that he must be fetched for this meeting is quite an important one.” Mithrel thoughtfully hummed and clicked her tongue. The last Elvenking seems pretty ignorant to her, based on the stories and rumours she’s often heard from either the mortals housing the wide manor. But still, a first impression might not be so bad.  
They then arrive at the front of the council room and the guards on both doors pushed the door open for them and they both stepped in. The White Council was present; Elrond, Saruman and Galadriel. They all stop from their conversations and looked up at Mithrel and Lindir. They both bowed respectfully before the aide speaks.

“My lord, she is here.” He said and excused himself out of the room. The doors closed beside Mithrel and she remained standing still, eyes on her father.

“Adar, how may I be of service?” She asked and Elrond looked over to Galadriel and Saruman. The wizard opened his mouth to speak but Galadriel already gave him heed to proceed. Elrond turned back to Mithrel.

“Mithrel, you must send this letter to the King of the Woodland Realm. Have him read it before your presence, and if he should refuse the idea tell him you are only following orders. Also if he decides my counsel is none of his concern, tell him otherwise and escort him to Rivendell. If possible. I will send my owl with you.” Mithrel nodded and took the letter Elrond handed her.

“Also, remember to stay in the path.”

-

Dark, looming trees, branches reaching and clawing out for the elven lady. This was of new territory. Never had his father ever sent her to the dark, thick woods of the Woodland Realm for its rumoured malice and menace. For what reason, she couldn’t imagine and there are so many possibilities. Mithrel rode her chestnut stallion down the elven path, as her father had called it. She remained vigilant, keeping watch of the path. The trees also seem to whisper and talk to each other, but she did not let it distract her. Elrond’s owl was perched on a piece of wood attached to the saddle of the horse. It watched its surroundings attentively, once or twice hooting.

She has heard of stories; of giant spiders and singing willow trees. Should she stray from the path, she will never find it again, so she remained watchful. It kept clear and visible until a snap of a branch startled her and the owl. The owl flew frantically, hooting and flying over the horse. The horse, whose name was Yael, vigorously shook his head and snorted. Mithrel hesitantly turned back from the path to look behind her. Then she spotted in the shadows of the dark, twisted oak trees, were long, furry legs creeping down its trunk. Mithrel kicked her horse and turned back forward.

The path was not there, and she was charging ahead. The owl was gone.

Mithrel silently panicked and only kept the horse moving forward. She cannot engage in anything, not yet. And then she heard it. The hollow, ghostly blow of a horn of a familiar enemy.

As if she was expecting it, the ellith then jumped off the stallion almost as soon as it had shot in the flanks with an arrow. The animal tumbled forward into the dried grass into a painful whiny and she immediately joined its side. She pulled the arrow out of its flesh and clicked her tongue.

Mountain orcs.

She quickly drew her sword to hit away another incoming arrow. Their stenching scent grew closer and one jumped into the scene, waving his blade and screaming. Mithrel lunged immediately forward to stab it in its bare neck and pulled her blade away. The vile creature fell down on the forest floor and more came. There were seven of them, each one armed. She next engaged with two of them, first blocking their blows but she then tightly curled her fist and a sharp blade slipped from her leather gauntlet. Mithrel then stabbed the second orc in its jaw and cut the third one’s head.

“Duck!” A voice exclaims from the shadows. Mithrel quickly turns around and ducked her head, and an arrow whizzes overhead, narrowly missing her hairline. It shot the incoming fifth orc and Mithrel moved to take down the sixth and last one. A stallion then appears from the woods, white and tall. It was then followed by a few other stallions. On their backs were elves. On patrol, Mithrel presumed. On the white stallion sat a young ellon dressed in a Lincoln green tunic. Two, yellow daggers were sealed on the straps on his back and sword on his left. On his back is also a fine quiver, the finest one she had seen, filled with arrows with yellow tails. On his hand is a bow of elm wood.

Atop his head is long, platinum, blond tresses with three small braids. His eyes were a pale azure.

“Who are you?” Asked the young elf as he examines Mithrel. Mithrel gave a bow and unsheathes her blade.  
“I am a captain and messenger from Lord Elrond Peredhel.” She replied coolly and the elf rider gave her a suspicious squint.  
“Never heard of you.” He whispered harshly, though the ellith still heard him. Mithrel resisted the urge to sigh as she takes out the sealed letter from her pockets and showed it to the elf rider. She made sure he can spot the unmistakable seal of her father on the envelope. The elf rider then raised his head.

“I apologise. The forest is just under strict rules and your arrival is quite unannounced. I am Legolas Greenleaf, prince of the Woodland Realm.” Mithrel and Legolas then share a salute and Mithrel hid the letter back in her pocket.

“Ride with me, we will escort you to the Elvenking’s halls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's slightly better at least??
> 
> im just rly tired im sorry..


	9. Reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reverie _(n.)_  
>  _/ˈrɛv(ə)ri/_
> 
> a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind."
> 
> -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The trip amongst the thick, menacing woods was silent – almost tense – but eventually, the group finally came upon an opening between oaken trees and lay a stone bridge above the rushing waters of the river. Mithrel sat behind the elven prince who led the patrol party through the bridge. The Elvenking’s Hall seemed ancient and old, the marble rusted but held a strange vibe. Vines and leaves grew from the old cracks and a large, Oaken tree, old and twisted, grew over it. The gate were two, tall, thick marble doors. Two guards stood by each handle and opened the doors when Legolas pulled the stallion to a stop in front of them. The elven prince dismounted the horse and Mithrel followed. The horses were then retrieved by retainers.  
“Feren, bring the messenger to the king. She seeks for his presence.” The elven prince told one of the patrol guards with him. The lanky elf complied immediately and led Mithrel inside. They walked down a thick, wooden passageway to which seems like a root. The inside of the palace was like an underground treehouse. Wooden passages were everywhere, curled and waved, descending and ascending. Artificial light were hung everywhere. Mithrel looked up and she saw another wooden passage above them. She looked below and there is also one, with guards marching across it. This place is new, yet it feels so familiar.  
The ellith turned her attention to the ellon in front of her and in the corner of her eyes, she caught a platform amongst the tangles of thick, oaken roots. On its flat centre sits a dais with a grand throne atop. A pair of antlers adorned the throne, along with branches curling upwards as if woven. A scarlet silk was draped messily over the throne’s armrest. Mithrel guessed it was the throne “room”. However, its occupant wasn’t nearby. And as the ellith also guessed, she was soon brought by the edge of the platform. Guards were there, still and vigilant with their spears and swords.  
“Please wait here,” Feren said and left the ellith by the platform. He is to probably retrieve the king, the ellith thought. She, however, stood still and silent, much like the guards present. Several minutes passed and long, quick steps were heard coming from behind. It was followed by another pair of footsteps, although more quick, as if struggling to keep up with the first one. Mithrel did what her guts told her to and quickly turned around to look at the incomers. She also stepped out of the way, just in case. And there, she saw the Elvenking, dressed in his silver gown. His distinct, palest blond tresses flowed from behind him as he walks across the passage in confident, long strides. His arrogant, broad shoulders carried some of his tresses over them and onto his torso. On his head was a crown of twigs and silvery, pine leaves and winter berries. His cerulean orbs found Mithrel’s (e/c) ones as he steps closer to the platform. The ellith immediately looked down and closed her eyes. The Elvenking and Feren passed her and she now turned around to face the throne. She looked upon the Elvenking rising from the stairs and sitting himself on his place while Feren remained by the foot of the stairs.  
Once the king was finally comfortable and relaxed, with one leg over the other, he raised and waved a hand to prompt the ellith into bringing her message. Mithrel knelt on the ground with right fist pressed over her left chest.  
“Hail king Thranduil, Oropherion. I have brought message from my lord, Elrond Peredhel.” Mithrel announced loud and clear. The Elvenking only remained quiet, blue eyes boring into the ellith in an intense yet invisible glare. The still silence itself only stirred a strange ache in her chest and a shudder down her shoulders.  
“My lord wishes for your presence in his council. He had also given me a letter for you to read. He says that it is of utmost importance and you are to participate.” And almost instantly, she spots the king roll his eyes and sigh. He signals to Feren and the ellon approaches Mithrel. She stood up and takes the letter from her pocket and hands it to Feren. Then Feren climbs the stairs to the throne and hands the king the letter and descends back from his spot. The Elvenking tears the envelope open and unfolds the paper inside. Silently, he then read the handwritten words. It took a merely two minutes before the king folds the letter again, eyes watching Mithrel as he slips the paper back in its envelope. He then rises from his throne and for a moment, there was the slightest bit of relief inside her chest. Until, of course, when he finally spoke.  
“Tell me, elf,” he began, voice booming and intimidating as he slowly descends from his stairs. “Why should I adhere to your lord’s words?” He added. Mithrel slightly lifted her head, (e/c) eyes still locked with the Elvenking’s watchful, waiting ones. He was observing for any reaction at all, something to feed his arrogance. Mithrel decided to up for the challenge and only responded smoothly.  
“Because it is a responsibility you are dismissing so casually, your highness.” Thranduil took the statement to heart and stopped by the foot of the stairs. Feren now looked at Mithrel. Thranduil’s eyesbrows furrowed slightly.  
“A responsibility? You’re painfully mistaken. Your lord’s words matter much less than what you think. At least for me.” He responds, almost hissing through his teeth.  
“If I tell you the cause of this council, will you still heed my lord’s words as babble?” And pause. The Elvenking was definitely on the verge of bursting, as his composed eyes now glared openly at Mithrel. The ellith was definitely watchful of her words, tempering it to the slightest.  
She watched the king, still thinking or only observing, and patiently waited for a response.  
“Then tell me.” Finally. Mithrel let her tense shoulders slightly relax.  
“It is something to concern with your realm and decisions will be made among this council. My lord only thought it wise if you were to participate, as it is your realm. And I was also given orders that I must return to Imladris with your company.” Thranduil remains silent to think again. Finally, he turned away with a scowl.  
“Feren, prepare Norodth for me.” He said and at first, the ellon looked slightly surprised. Then, he immediately nodded and scurried away. The Elvenking turned to the guards by his throne.  
“And your party will come with me. Inform Tauriel. You are dismissed.” He said and immediately, the small group of guards left their posts and hurried away from the platform. Mithrel watched them leave and turned to the Elvenking once they have faded down into another path. She almost moved away to leave as well.  
“Your horse. Where is it?” He asked then and turned around once more. He laid his eyes upon the ellith once more, but still glaring.  
“He was slain, your highness. We were led away from the path and orcs ambushed us. Lord Elrond’s owl was with me, but he had fled before we were attacked.” Thranduil listened to the ellith and nodded.  
“Your lord’s owl is safe, he is in my chambers. And for a horse, I will lend you one to use during the trip.” Mithrel parted her lips again to ask about the bird, but the king raised his hand and turned around.  
“I will have Adnir bring you to a room for you to wait in while everything is being prepared. The bird will be with you soon.” Mithrel pressed her lips shut and nodded silently. Thranduil then began to walk to leave. Mithrel lowered her head as a salute but froze when the king stopped not a few feet in front of the ellith. More so, when the Elvenking firmly grabbed her chin and swiftly lifted her face to him. The king’s cerulean eyes now bore into Mithrel’s, watching and… depicting.  
The ellith remained frozen. She then looked to her side but Thranduil slightly jerked her chin towards the opposite direction. Mithrel looked back up at the Elvenking, then. When he let go of her, she immediately took one step back.  
“Your eyes remind me of someone.” He murmured grimly. Mithrel blinked confusedly and furrowed her eyebrows. Then, the king left, walking down the passage in a long stride.  
-  
Shortly after the king has left, a chambermaid went and fetched Mithrel and took her to a guest room. The owl was then brought in after. Mithrel was offered a bath, to which she hesitantly accepted, and was left alone since. The chambermaid informed the ellith that she will return to bring her outside when the king is ready to depart.  
Now, Mithrel sat on the chair in front of the dresser, (e/c) eyes staring at her its own reflection in the mirror. The owl rests quietly on her shoulder, asleep. The ellith’s final moment with the king earlier still disturbed her. Was that normal? If it was, then why didn’t he address it earlier? Is it an enemy of the king or an ally? Mithrel sighed. She knew nothing, for she knew little of the king. All she knows is he fought with the Last Alliance, alongside her father.  
Ah.  
Mithrel’s eyes now sparked with a new curiosity. And much more she dreaded to smell the fresh air and hear the rushing waters of Imladris, and to her father’s arms.  
A set of gentle knocks were placed on the other side of her door and she stood up from her seat carefully. She went opened the door and found the chambermaid from earlier standing before her. Her name was Adnir, she remembered.  
“Is it time?” Mithrel asked and the chambermaid smiled and nodded. Mithrel then stepped out of the room and closed the door. The owl was finally awake, tattering and hooting at Adnir. Adnir led her down the hallway as Mithrel followed.  
The chambermaid was tall, only a few inches shorter than her.She had rich, curly, black tresses falling down to her waist. Her skin was very pale, almost white when under the light. She also bore very light, grey eyes. Her nose is long and pointed. Her lips were beautifully shaped and reddish. She was tall and lanky. With her white attire, she almost seemed ghostly.  
Mithrel tore her gaze aware from the chambermaid’s back when she caught the other glance over her shoulder. Adnir must’ve felt her watching her. She murmured an apology to herself.  
Eventually, they were upon the gates once more. It was open now, and by its step is the Elvenking sitting on his elk. He now wore his travelling attire: a grey tunic, and silver breeches. A silver circlet rests upon his head, with a diamond pendant. His swords were strapped to his side. Four other horsemen are behind him, and one was an ellith with long, fiery tresses. Adnir announces their presence with a bow and Mithrel followed suit. Thranduil turned to them and tells them to rise.  
“Give the messenger the horse.” Thranduil said as soon as Mithrel stood up and dismissed Adnir. A retainer approaches Mithrel and hands her the reins of a black mare with long, rich mane. It snorted at first and Mithrel now climbed onto its saddled and held the reins with both hands. A horn was then blown and Thranduil, the one leading the party, now trotted his elk forward and across the bridge. The red-haired ellith followed soon and then the rest of the guards and then the ellith. They crossed the bridge in a single file. Mithrel peeked up at the sky and from what she can tell, they will arrive at Imladris by dawn, for the sky is already orange. It is very difficult to tell time from inside the Elvenking’s halls.  
-  
After a couple of hours, night fell. The party was still travelling through the trees in a close file. Now, Mithrel had moved behind the king upon his orders.  
“This council better be worth my time, messenger.” Thranduil murmured threateningly to Mithrel and she glanced at the king for a moment. She then turned back to the path and slightly hoped that it is important. But she does not doubt her father.  
They finally make it out of the woods safely. There were signs of orcs around, but they were very far away. Into their lair, Thranduil grimaced. And even if there were nearby, they would not dare intervene in their flight for the king was in a terribly ill mood. And another group of elves travels among the woods, watching over the single file and making sure the king travels out of the forest safely.  
And to that, they did. Soon, they were out of Rhovanion and were crossing the shallow parts of Anduin. By dawn, as Mithrel had predicted, they arrived at the porch of the last homely home by dawn. Mithrel was the first to dismount and announce their arrival with a blow of her own horn. It was past the waking hours, she should disturb nobody but a few. Thranduil waited on his elk and his guards on their horses. Elrond soon emerged from the top of the staircase, relieved. He descends down to the porch with Lindir trailing behind him. Mithrel and Elrond share a greeting before she ascended upstairs. Retainers now came to the porch and tended to the elk and horses while Elrond watched from the foot of the stairs.  
The retainers took the animals away and Elrond now approached Thranduil.  
“Hail king Thranduil, son of Oropher.” The Noldor elf greeted in a humble manner. Thranduil regarded him with a slight bow of his own before he was escorted up at the stairs towards the vast manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back
> 
> Also, the female protagonist is still you! Mithrel will just be in there as a factor in plot and character development. Bear with us for a while more, thank you!


	10. Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision _(n.)_  
>  _/ˈvɪʒ(ə)n/_
> 
> the ability to think about or plan the future with imagination or wisdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If knowledge and foresight are too penetrating and deep, unify them with ease and sincerity."
> 
> -Xun Kuang

“Well?” Mithrel looked up from the book she holds in her hands and to Elrond, who stands beside her, smiling warmly. She blinked confusedly and closed the leatherbound book and placed it back in its previous spot.  
“Well what, atar?” she responded and Elrond grunted. He had just returned from showing the Sylvan king and his guards their chamber for the next couple of days. Now, he had joined his child’s side to ask a few questions or whatnot. He was well worried after the king had broken down Mithrel’s small encounter in that clearing.  
“How was your first trip to Mirkwood?” He asked and Mithrel now smiled with a chuckle.  
“I would barely call it a trip, father.” She said and Elrond now walked towards the door. Mithrel followed closely behind him.  
“By the way, father. I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Elrond spared her a thoughtful glance as an urge for her to continue. And hesitantly, she did so. She turned down the hallway.  
“The king told me some strange words. And since you have known him longer than I do – not much, but still much longer – I thought I might ask you.” Mithrel started. There was a nervous pause from Elrond before he hummed thoughtfully and signalled her to continue. They walked down the open corridors and the afternoon wind brushed them as they walked.  
“Tell me, what did the king say?”  
“He said that my eyes remind him of someone.” Elrond stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyebrows furrowed. Mithrel now looked down and closed her eyes. The awful silence only concluded to one answer but before she could confront the elven lord, he had already spoken up.  
“I do not know why you would think it would be best to ask me. I’m not entirely sure of who the king is referring to, for we both have met a lot of people, elf and not.” Elrond sighed and turned to Mithrel. “However, I think it is best that person remains unknown. The king does not like anyone knowing of his past.”  
“But you know his past.”  
“I do, and it’s partly why we dislike each other. Now return to your duties.” The elven lord dismissed the ellith and turned back to continue walking. Mithrel only pursed her lips in disappointment and walked the other way.  
Once Elrond was far away, a gentle voice startled him. He turned and found Celebrian standing by the sill of the corridor. Her winter coat was over her shoulders and she embraced her arms. Elrond sighed and stepped beside the elven lady to embrace her shoulders tightly.  
“You won’t be able to keep it from her anymore soon.” Celebrian whispered quietly. Elrond nodded grimly and ran a hand through her silver tresses. Elrond places a kiss atop her head then and buries his face in her shoulder. Celebrian wraps her arms around his torso and pats his back.  
“They’ll all suffer so much. If only I could lessen their fates, I would.” Celebrian added. Elrond sighs and pulls away.  
“No, they are strong. They can and will handle it. We must trust in them.” He replies in defense. Celebrian only smiles up at him and leans in to place a kiss on his forehead.  
“You too. You are strong. Do not fade.”  
-  
By sunset, Lindir announces that the council has officially begun and nobody was to disrupt it. Celeborn and Galadriel are present, and so is Saruman, and also Thranduil. The council lasted until after dinner, and Mithrel guessed they had already eaten in the council room. Tauriel, the red-haired Sylvan elf was also present in the council room as the king’s current aide, since Feren was left in the Elvenking’s halls to assist Legolas run the palace upon the king’s absence.  
It was nightfall when it has officially finished. At least, for today. Thranduil steps out of the council room eagerly with Tauriel following closely behind. Thranduil knew, however, that the meeting was not yet over. The White council only wished to discuss something within themselves, something that Thranduil was not allowed to hear. Even Celeborn was excluded, as the Elvenking noticed the Sindar elf also leave the room shortly after him. He doesn’t mind, though. He wishes to leave the room as soon as he could and this was the opportunity he seized.  
“Tauriel, bring me wine in my room, then you’re dismissed.” He said as he walks down the corridor. The Sylvan elf complied immediately and walked down the corridor towards the wine cellar. As an aide, Lindir had shown Tauriel every room she might need to visit within the next couple of days. And it was helpful. Rivendell was not as wide as the Elvenking’s Halls, but it was still roomy nonetheless.  
Thranduil walks down the open corridor. Every now and then, he would pass by an elf or any housing mortal. Some would stop and bow and others would stare at him as he walks past. It was very… Disturbing, at least at a time like this. At this hour, he wishes nothing but solitude.  
He seeks the most silent part of the manor and came across an empty balcony barely hovering over the rushing waterfalls. He stopped by the corner of the hallway and listened for any incomers. He found nobody was nearby, and so the Elvenking rejoiced at the peace and silence at last. The waterfall, however, was loud, but it was not unwelcome.  
Thranduil places his hands over the surface of the marble railings and for once lets his shoulders relax. He lets himself think and ponder on all of today’s information. He let them sink in, then and he pushes them on the back of his mind. Not to forget about it, but only to use it for later when he needs it. He clears his mind of all his stresses and soon, his face also relaxes, growing gentler. He let his guard down at a very exposed placed, something which is not his chamber. But his façade needs a break and this is the only place he could find peace in.  
“Your highness,” a voice silently addresses. Thranduil quickly reverted back to the stern king before facing the intruder. Mithrel raised her hands in apology and gave a brief bow.  
“What do you want?” Thranduil asked and Mithrel straightened herself to announce her message.  
“My lord Elrond wishes to say that the council will be held once more after breakfast tomorrow.” She announces and Thranduil turned back to the sky in front of him. A much better sight. He remained silent to give the messenger a hint of his dismissal. However, he did not hear her leave as much as he did not hear her approach. What a strange elf. Only two can evade his sharp senses, and both being dead.  
“My lord, you are troubled,” Mithrel said. Instantly, Thranduil whips his head around to look at the messenger with wide, surprised eyes. Mithrel, too, was taken aback by the reaction. She immediately turned away and mumbled an incoherent apology before scurrying away. Thranduil’s surprised expression now faded into a dreading look as he watched her leave. He then closes his eyes and face forward once more. Silently, he murmurs a prayer.  
-  
The first snowfall of winter arrived the next day, in time with a storm. By the morning, it was snowing heavily and the wind was blowing hard. It was even howling. And just as Mithrel said, a council was held that morning. The meeting was finished after three hours. By that time, the snowstorm was only heavier. Celeborn was the first to rush out of the council room and Thranduil thought it odd, and so did Elrond and Saruman. Galadriel, however, followed, and now everyone knew it was serious. Elrond stood up once the ambience was rung. They all rushed out of the room and into the porch while shielding themselves from the harsh snow. When they came upon the staircase, they saw the porch was flooded with snow. Mithrel was downstairs, with the twin brothers, helping their horse tread through the thick snow. Elrond’s face grew grim. So did Celeborn’s.  
“Where is your mother?!” Elrond shouted as he rushes down the stairs. The twins and their sister glanced at him. Soon, they made it to the shallow snow and Celeborn also descended to assist the siblings upstairs along with the horse. Elladan was first to speak, panting heavily.  
“They- They took h-her…” He panted. Mithrel leant against a pillar, panting as well. Elrohir holds the both of them up.  
“We will explain later.” Elrohir spoke, nearly sobbed. Thranduil squinted at the deep stain on Elladan and Mithrel’s tunic. It was not a red stain, but a black one.  
“They have been poisoned.” Thranduil announced and everyone looked at him. Elrond quickly searched for the wounds and checked it himself. And without another word, him and Elladan rushes the siblings to the infirmary.  
-  
Hours after treatment, Elladan was now slightly better and was able to explain. Mithrel remained quiet and listened. Elrond was present in the room, along with Celeborn, both deeply worried of them both and also Celebrian.  
“We… We couldn’t do anything. I am so sorry, atar. We are sorry.” Elladan murmured in despair. Elrond lowers his gaze and closed his eyes. Elladan watches him sadly and Mithrel only glanced before she turned to the window.  
“Atar, I think naneth had seen it coming.” She then spoke. Elrond and Celeborn turned to her. “Naneth told me, before she were taken away, that you should not fade, that you should not mourn. And the Lady Galadriel was not fazed, but was dreadful. I think they both knew it was time.” And she turned back to her father. Elrond closed his eyes in realisation and took a deep breath.  
“We can still save her.” Was Celeborn’s regard. The siblings look up at him and he nods. Mithrel feels a nostalgic feeling within her but dismissed it.  
“We can and we will.” Elrond said. He then stood up and left the room. Celeborn shakes his head and followed shortly. When they both had left, the siblings shared a worried look. They worry for their father and mother.  
-  
Thranduil stands by his room’s porch, troubled eyes staring into empty space. He concludes today’s and yesterday’s events as a huge omen or a mere coincidence. Still, it deeply disturbed him. He lowers his head, eyes firmly closed. Almost immediately, images flash in his mind as if it were waiting for him.

_A ship._  
It was a large, grey ship with white sails. Thranduil knew of these ships.  
It is the same one his father had told him that his age sailed on when leaving Arda. 

_Thranduil also noticed that the ship was still, unmoving. The winds blew west, but the ship’s sails face east. It also seemed abandoned. It left a ghostly atmosphere, especially since it is faraway, behind the grey ocean mist. Thranduil, curious and dreading, picked up the paddle of his wooden boat and padded through the water and towards the ship. But as soon as he coursed through the waves, it turned against him. In huge waves, it greeted him, pushing him back and pulling him farther away from the ship. Thranduil was frustrated but kept paddling still. Eventually, he makes it through the waves and was paddling nearer to the ship._

_He had gotten past the mist and found that the grey ship was not grey, but brown. Its planks were made of strong, rich oak. On the head of the ship stood a single figure, dressed in a pure, white dress. On her shoulders was an olive green cape, attached to the sleeves of her dress with golden brooches. Her long, wavy amber tresses flowed along with the west wind. The tresses over her shoulders were tied with bronze ringlets._

_Thranduil stopped his paddling and looked up at the familiar figure up at the ship. From where he is, he can still make out the figure’s clear, (e/c) eyes. They looked far into the North in a faraway yearning and loneliness. However, Thranduil was not struck by the she-elf’s enchanting presence and beauty. But because of the strong familiarity in her chiselled face and longing look in her eyes. The restrained creases on her face and her tall, yet humble posture. Thranduil swore he had seen the ellith before. He was so sure of it._  
Especially the eyes. It was as if he had stared within them with a restrained love and fondness before. As if it was only a lifetime ago.  
However, he couldn’t quite place it. And for once, the Elvenking was blank. 

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes, cerulean orbs now squinted in frustrated confusion. He racks his mind for an answer. The elf on the ship, the nostalgic eyes that he had not only found from the lady in his vision, but also in Elrond’s daughter and herald. Was it a sign from Illuvatar? Faerandir? Elros? Thranduil closed his eyes and sighed deeply. If (Y/n) were indeed to rise again, then…

What of his wife?

Will she also be reborn? Will the gods bless the world once more with her smile?

Thranduil looks up at the sky, a lost sigh ghosting past his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter from Thranduil's perspective.


	11. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminisce _(v.)_  
>  _/ˌrɛmɪˈnɪs/_
> 
> indulge in enjoyable recollection of past events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Remembrance is a strange thing. With love, its pain is bearable. With bitterness, it simply destroys.”  
> ― Elaine di Rollo, Bleakly Hall

In the same night, Mithrel’s sleep was haunted by sights of a strange and unfamiliar vision that she could not understand. She writhed and sweat, but she will not be woken.

_Fire and a great, barren field. It is all she can see. The skies overhead are grey and filled with smoke. The ground holds hellfire, for their flames grow bigger and fiercer, red hands reaching for the sky. A mist grows around the field, a red mist. Mithrel was in the middle of all chaos, eyes lost and terrified. She may be a great warrior. but never had she stood up to a great fire._

_Her feet burned, but she endured. Somehow, she can contain the heat as if it were hers. And amongst the pressuring frustration and confusion, she wept. Her agonising cry swept across the great field. Then it rained. The sharp blades of water fell to the ground and the great fire was subsided. Still, she wept. She looked upon the grey skies. The fire did not hurt, but it troubled her. The rain hurt, but it disturbed her. The rain burnt her skin. The fire was put out and a great smoke now rose to the clouds slowly. Mithrel stopped weeping to contain the pain in her skin._

_She dropped to her knees, soaked, and curled. A heat grows beneath her skin and the more the rain pierced her like a million blades, the more the heat grows. And the more the pain intensifies. “Close your eyes,” spoke a deep, yet soft voice. The clouds then cast a dark shadow over the field and Mithrel. One could have mistaken it as night. Mithrel sighed painfully, or rather coughed. She took a brief glance up and found that amidst the datk, smoking field, was a bright light. It was in fact an elf, dressed in bright, white clothes. He wore a bright gem atop his crownlet. He dusts elven gems off his trail as he walks towards Mithrel. And as he approaches, the scent of the sea only grew stronger. His hair was a long, dark brown, almost similar to hers. He was tall and fair, His eyes are a bright, light grey and they gazed warmly upon her. A soft smile was also placed on his lips._

_He knelt down in front of Mithrel and cupped both her cheeks with his wide, gentle hands. And they eased the pain in her cheeks. She leant into the touch, now slightly relieved that the pain has lessened. The Eldar helped Mithrel sit up. The pain on her torso also disappeared, and weariness now grew in her. The agony had exhausted her. “Close your eyes,” he repeated. Soon, the ellith was relieved of his great burden and she feels numb. The burnt marks on her skin started to disappear. Her cheeks grew fair once more, but her hands still remained burnt, and so does a few limbs of hers, but they hurt no more. Mithrel gazed up at the bright elf in front of her and murmured words of gratitude, for she knew it was him who had eased her pain._

_“Join me in the seas, my great, great grandchild. I will wait.”_

Mithrel rose slowly, yet surely. She sat by the edge of her bed and her shaky, cold hands gripped the sheets firmly. Her knuckles were red and burnt, and Mithrel could not feel anything from her limbs. She gazed upon her red palm and a deep sigh left her lips. She set her gaze out of the windows of her room and in the dark, night sky, she saw the star of Earendil shining brightest among the other stars. And its glow seemingly reached her, for her room gleamed brightly yet the moon shun on the other side of Imladris. And now, she grieved.

The ellith stood up from her bed and turned away from the bright star. She grabbed a light, lilac shawl from her wardrobe and put it over her shoulders. She then left her room and stepped out into the corridor. The whole manor was asleep and silent, and upon this night, all was tense. So, carefully, she moved down the hallway, bare feet carefully watching her steps. She hugged the shawl tight over her shoulder. She was not cold, but she was in nothing but a slip. Should anybody come across her, it will be shameful. And after careful steps, she finally came across the porch. The snow was shovelled to provide a path, and it led to the forests of Imladris. She stepped by the edge of the staircase and her (e/c) gems gleamed brightly at the awaiting woods.

“My lady, you’re awake.” Mithrel looked away from the woods ahead to turn to the incomer. She found the Elvenking, fully dressed in the same silver gown she had first saw him in, except no crown rested atop his head. And noticing the (e/c) eyes on his head, Thranduil suppressed a scowl from his lips.

“Yes, your highness. Do you not find comfort in our beds?” She asked, immediately turning her gaze down to his eyes. “Perhaps I could bring you to another room, where you’ll find rest easier.” She straightened her back and tensely looked away, as she hugged the shawl closer to her shoulders. Thranduil grunted in disagreement and walked down the stairs.

“No. I am only out for a stroll.” He said. Mithrel looked down on both ends of the corridor before following after the king.

“Then let me accompany you, your highness.” She insisted. Thranduil stopped from his tracks and turned to Mithrel who had shortly joined his side. There was a look of slight surprise and confusion in his cerulean orbs, yet he did not say anything. Instead, he hesitantly turned away and continued to walk down into the porch and into the woods.

They strolled around the woods, but not too far from the manor. There was a still silence between the two elves, but none seeks to disturb it. They found comfort in each other’s presence and silence, and gave each other space to think in peace.

Soon, they both came across a small clearing. The Elvenking stepped into it and Mithrel stayed in the woods to watch him in surprise. Was he tired? The ellith did not know, and she looked about, unsure of what to do.

“What are you falling behind for? I thought you will keep me company.” He called as he sat down by the roots of a frosted beech tree. Mithrel nodded then and followed him. She stood by a rowan tree near Thranduil and she leant against its trunk. Now, the silence was tense. She looked up into the skies and searched for some form of ease in the stars and moon. Mithrel then dared steal a quick glimpse of the Elvenking. She saw then that the Elvenking was also looking up, but not to the sky, but to her. And even as she met his eyes, he did not look away.

“Sit down,” he called. Quite terrified, Mithrel hesitantly sat down on the snowy clearing. She still let the shawl hug her shoulders firmly, and her brown, free locks were tucked underneath it. Mithrel now ignored the presence of the king, and she set her focus on the snow. It was white and pure and cold and glistening. They are almost like the gems of starlight, pure and white, bright and brittle. Within slight touch, they will disappear into water or shards.

“Your eyes,” he called once more. Mithrel looked up at the Elvenking and saw that he was, once more, observing. His cerulean orbs were squinted and stared directly at her. She remembered the elf king’s comment back in his throne room, and a shiver ran down her spine. She gave a slow nod.

“What of my eyes, your highness?” Mithrel quietly asked. A silence fell once more but both still shared an intense stare. Until Thranduil eventually scooted forward. Mithrel wished to move away but when she had glimpsed at the cerulean orbs much closer now, she saw a lost grief and longing trapped beneath its icy glamour. And so, she let herself relax.

There are so much more in his eyes, that now had caught her interest; a great grief and sorrow, of great regret and lust, and of lost love and friendship. All and many others swirled in his icy orbs and he wished to know them, bit by bit. The ellith had somehow convinced herself that with the knowledge of what casts a shadow over the Elvenking’s heart, it would kindle a new, bright fire in her heart – a fire that longs to be freed and to be alight.

Mithrel jolted in surprise when a soft warmth pressed onto her lips. She then realised that it was the Sindar elf’s lips against hers. The ellith now struggled for she was frightened and surprised, but the hand snaking behind her neck resisted. Somehow, even with the cold, hard rings around his fingers, the hand still felt comforting, unlike her first impression. Gradually, she accepted the kiss and only when she did, the Elvenking harshly pulled away.

Without another word, he stood up and briskly walked away. Mithrel sat on the snow, still stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hallo! hey look it's a first kiss
> 
> quite messy but i hope you like it :)


	12. Dalliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _/ˈdalɪəns/ (n.)_   
>  _a brief love affair_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The sea loved the moon, when she was supposed to love the shore,"  
> -Saiber, Stardust and Sheets

" _Alqua_ , where were you this morning?" Elrond asked as he approached the  _ellith_ who came at once from his summon. She walked down the corridor, dressed in her sleeveless, navy blue tunic that nearly reached her ankles. Underneath the tunic is a jasmine undershirt, whose sleeves are tucked underneath a pair of leather gauntlet. Her silver breeches can be seen from the slits of her tunic from both sides and they, too, were tucked underneath long, leather boots. Elrond knew that she had just returned from patrol, but she did not join them for breakfast. And since his chamber is near hers, he knows when she rises but this morning she did not come out of her doors. The elven lord found that strange.

Mithrel looked at her  _atar_ with confusion before replying. "I was on duty," she explained. The half-elven resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. He then turned around and walked down the hallway, whereas the  _ellith_ followed, still oblivious of her father's suspicions. Silently, they made their way to the armory and Elrond walked by a glass closet. Mithrel stayed by the doorway. 

"Ride to Lothlorien, escort Arwen back home," he whispered. He then opened the glass closet and took out a scabbard from the eight-tier sword stand inside. Then, he handed it to the  _ellith_. Reluctantly, she stepped closer and accepted the long sword. Its fine, silver hilt stood out from its black, leather scabbard. The blade was warm, she realised. Its heat radiated even through the material of its holder, but it was not enough to make her uncomfortable. She then pulled the blade out of its scabbard and its sharp edge was filled with intricate carvings of patterns of waterfalls and leaves. There were also letters, faint and barely recognizable. Mithrel stared at it intently, her (e/c) eyes reflecting off its shimmering surface.

" _Llachris,_ " Elrond interrupted, and Mithrel turned her head back towards her father. "Meteorite's cleave. Take it with you, it will come very handy." He said and closed the glass cabinet. Mithrel gave him a certain look before slowly sheathing the sword and nodding. 

"If you think it is best-"

"And when you return, find me immediately. I must speak with you." The she-elf paused and pressed her lips tightly together. Both of them shared a hard, unnerving stare before Mithrel nodded and stepped out of the room, fastening the new sword onto her waist. Once the ellith had arrived at the porch, she released the sigh that she's been holding back. She stood in the middle of the balcony, brooding and idle. After a moment, she moved to meet Elladan and Elrohir descending from the stairs. They stopped in front of each other.

"Bring the rest of the group, I will take care of the horses."

"The snow is too deep," argued Elrohir.

"It has been already paved, travel is now possible. Besides, it is  _atar_ 's orders." Mithrel retorted and moved to the porch. Elladan and Elrohir only shared a glance before going back inside to gather their travelling company. Meanwhile, the ellith went to the stables and sorted the list of stallions that would be best suited for their course. Fearendir, the groom, assisted in taking out the declared horses and handing them to the retainers, who then took the horses to the porch. 

"This is the worst winter we have experienced so far, m'lady. Are you really sure you wish to go down the mountains?" Fearendir asked as he finally took out the last, red mustang out of its shed. Mithrel looked at the ellon with pursed lips. 

"Nay, my friend. But if  _atar_ thinks it is safe enough to let us, then I will trust his judgement." And the groom gave a silent grunt. Mithrel turned to him and chuckled. 

"Why, do not tell me you doubt your lord?" She joked and the groom shook his head, chuckling himself. 

"Nay, I do not. I only find it strange for him to carelessly send his child out into this winter, especially within these  _circumstances_ ," he said. Now, Mithrel had gotten his point. Silent she was for a few moments and Fearendir turned to her, sharing the same grave stare. Within such a short conversation, the peaceful silence of the temporary still winter was broken with tension.

"I only fear for the lord, he is panicked and filled with fear. I do not trust his judgement so wholly. He will sooner or later come with rash decisions and I am afraid this will be one of them," he continued, more quietly this time. His pale hand still gripped the reins of the red mustang. "But if you also think this is what is best, then I will trust you." He let out a light chuckle and handed Mithrel the reins. She slowly took the leather binds and gave Fearendir an observing look. Then, they share a salute and Mithrel began to lead the stallion out of the stables.

However, as she turned around, she found the Elvenking standing by the entrance. His hand held his elk's own reins and his dark eyebrows were furrowed. Mithrel's shoulders slightly fell and she gave him a bow.

"My lord, let me take care of him for you," said the groom. Mithrel internally thanked her friend and now slightly moved forward while Fearendir led the elk back inside his own shed. Thranduil still remained by the entrance.

"You cannot ride beyond the forests, the snow is too deep to tread. You will not make it." He finally said with a sigh. Mithrel shook her head with a sigh of her own and still continued to lead the horse out into the open. Fearendir gave him a look and a shrug before proceeding to brush off the snow from the elk's coat. Thranduil received and understood the message and clicked his tongue. Then, the  _Sinda_ turned around and closely followed the ellith to the gathering place. Her group is already there, mounted and ready to set off. 

"Listen to me when I say this! You cannot ride beyond!" He insisted. Mithrel momentarily looked back up at him before mounting the mustang and only being held back by a pull on her arm. 

"It snowed last night, and the paths were made a day before. It would have been buried again by now."

"I know it snowed, your highness. I was outside, if you do not remember." Mithrel retorted, almost hissing from the tone of her voice. Thranduil met her (e/c) orb and he squinted, challenging the ellith. Then, slowly, he released her arm and briskly walked away. Mithrel watched his back with a grotesque sense of nostalgia and a slight pang in her chest. She then turned away and did not meet the confused stares of her brothers. It would most likely be later until she was interrogated, but she did not worry about that now. 

* * *

 

And it was just as the Elvenking had said. The snow was deep and some had to go down to shovel a path for them. It was nearly evening when they finally made it through the outskirts of the woods of Imladris. At the slopes of the Misty mountains, the snow was now decent and shallow enough for the horses to easily get through. If otherwise, Mithrel would have dreaded and turned back for they nearly lost one of the stallions from the hands of the cold, bitter winter. For the horses, at least. And now, they trot down the faint trade route on the slopes of the mountains in a single file, with Elladan leading ahead. Mithrel follows behind him, and Elrohir behind her. The other four elves follows behind him. 

Elrohir turned back for a moment and then slightly brought his horse forward, beside Mithrel, and rode beside her. The ellith gave him a strange glance and found the burning curiosity and confusion embedded in his bluish, grey eyes. Mithrel turned away, sighing. 

"What?" She asked. Elladan gave them a quick glance, but still kept riding ahead. Elrohir only frowned more with her inquiry.

"Please, quit staring." She pleaded. Elrohir hesitantly turned away, but still made sure his presence was ever present beside his sister. 

By midnight, they arrive at the front of the city of tree houses, all glamoured with vines and marble. Even underneath the shadows of the tall trees, it glowed in an ethereal fashion. They gathered by the front and Haldir, the current chief of Lothlorien, emerged to meet them. It was obvious he was sleeping from his slightly tired eyes.

"I received word from Lord Elrond." He said and Elrohir dismounted his horse to take care of Haldir. Meanwhile, retainers came from the stone bridge in the middle of all the tall trees. They took the horses and led them away. Mithrel stayed nearby her brother while she looks around the elven city. Tall trees were everywhere, with marble, circular dwellings around its upper trunk with spiraling stairs. Pillars and blue lanterns filled the ground below, and the light of the realm reflects on the water flowuig underneath the stone bridge. Mithrel had only visited Lothlorien a few times, and each time, it was as if everything was new. It never failed to surprise her.

"Then I suggest you travel back tomorrow. The snowstorm would have been over then and it would be much safer to tread the path," suggested Haldir. Mithrel turned to Elrohir and the chief, and she noticed the stubborn look that played on her brother's face. Elladab joined her side with crossed arms. 

"It's what  _atar_ used to say, fight fire with fire." He whispered in her ear and she let out a snort. Both then turn to them and Elrohir glared. 

"Your stubbornness will get us nowhere,  _hanno_. Let us rest." She chuckled and Elladan and Mithrel pulled Elrohir to their designated tree, the one which Celeborn and Galadriel had especially given for the siblings to share. 

"You both know he isn't any less obstinate than I am!" Elrohir exclaimed. Elladan snorted and tugged him forward as they began to climb up to their lit dwelling. Mithrel looked up at the blue lanterns hanging from its entrance and smiled.

" _I onórë eccoitie._ "

* * *

Arwen smiled in delight as she hurried her brothers and younger sister inside their dwelling, eagerness obvious from the tone of her words that followed next. 

"Oh, do hurry!" She insisted and then slid the doors closed. The siblings plopped on the cream white, chaise sofa. All three released relieved grunts from the furniture's soft mattress and the natural warmth radiating from each other. Arwen joined them shortly, scooting between Mithrel and Elladan and sharing the comfort of each other. Quite relaxed they stayed tangled within each other until Elrohir pats Elladan and Arwen's shoulders. They then sit up and huddle on the couch, each one glad to be near each other once more. It is under rare circumstances that they still get to spend time as a complete, and it is most rare that they share a proper conversation or confide with each other, without the worry of falling behind from the world's pace. And these short moments were those they each cherish most. For Arwen stays at Lothlorien, Mithrel manages the forces of Rivendell or Imladris alike, and the twins were mostly busy with the affairs of Rivendell. trades and treaties and whatnot. None of them could find enough time to spend time with each other, and it's partly reason why Mithrel persisted to travel to Lothlorien, despite the weather.

 And such was their familial love, deep and flux. Especially with the news of their mother's life in danger, and the common knowledge of their father slowly losing himself in a spiraling fear. They know that if they lose them both, literally and figuratively, they will only have each other. Hence, they do everything to keep their bond strong. 

" _Atar_ sent us to fetch you. He wants you back in Rivendell, just for safety reasons." Elladan started in a quiet murmur. Mithrel laid down the chaise lounge from the back and Elrohir joined her side, his back leaning against the furniture's right support. Arwen's smile slightly faltered upon the news and slowly, she nodded. Elrohir gives her a pat on the shoulder and leans his head back. 

"How have you all been?" Arwen asked. Elladan tried to share a space with Mithrel, who scooted and slightly pushed Elrohir closer to the edge. The three was now laying down, and Arwen crept over her younger sister and rested her back on her torso, whereas Mithrel put her arms around her shoulders.

"We are well, although we have been busier. Mountain orcs are becoming bolder and we are getting frequent visits from the White Council." Mithrel murmured as she closed her eyes. Elrohir turns to her with a smirk before scoffing and turning back to the high ceiling.

"Yes, we have indeed been well. And our  _hérincë_ seems to have found a lover in the Woodland King." Elrohir scoffed once more and Mithrel did not bother glancing his way. She only kept her eyes closed and sighed. 

"Ignore him, I have only spoken to the king twice and that's during I escorted him to Imladris and before departing for Lothlorien." She murmured. Arwen smiled and looked up at him.

"Speaking of which,  _melindolda milyatyë_ ," Mithrel patted Arwen's shoulder. Her cheeks grew warm next and she shook her head.

"I have no lover,  _onórë_ ," Arwen defended. Elladan and Elrohir share a glance and chuckled. 

"Not yet, but surely soon!" Elladan exclaimed. Elrohir and Mithrel chuckled and she opened her (e/c) eyes again. 

"Well, we can chat more tomorrow. We all must read for the road ahead." She said and carefully moved to sit up. The other three agreed willingly and they all stood up from the chaise lounge to go to their rooms and hopefully get a peaceful, well-deserved sleep.

* * *

 

And just as they planned, the next day after lunch, they prepared to set out back for Rivendell. Mithrel was talking to one of the soldiers within their company with a map held in front of them. Elladan and Arwen prepares the stallion and their coats, while Elrohir talks to Haldir. 

" _Hanno, lennamanwalwë._ " Elladan called and Elrohir turned to him and gave him a nod. Mithrel then sent the rest of the company to mount their horses as she took her red mustang at the front. Arwen rides her white, Andalusian stag. Undomiel strokes its neck a few times before firmly gripping its reins. Elrohir and Elladan then mount their grey, Friesian horses. They part from the elven-city once Haldir had given them farewell. They trot on the brim of the Vales of Anduin in a single file, the snow slightly deeper than when they came the other day. The horses took slower than intended, however their patience were long and freely given. Mithrel now lead the line with Elrohir behind her. Behind Elrohir is Arwen, and Elladan behind Arwen. The elf Mithrel talked with earlier followed behind Arwen, and his brother behind him. The two other elves followed at the end of the line. They reach  _Caras Galadhon_ , the chief city of Lothlorien, nearly two hour after their departure. Through the bright city they follow the brim of the Great River heading north. For a couple more hours, they reach the Gladden Fields and the journey was mostly silent. Elrohir and Mithrel took turns in taking leads, and often stopped to feed or let their horses drink by  _Anduin_. And then they would push forward. 

Five hours after their departure, they finally find the Old Forest Road and they take the path, although it was hardly visible. With Elrohir's keen sight, they decided he takes the lead. The journey since then had been awfully slow, for the nearer they reach the Misty mountains, the deeper the snow gets. Elrohir was also struggling to focus on the road and keep his eyes on the path on the same time, until they eventually lost track. Elrohir stopped the horses and sighed, keen eyes desperately trying to find their way back through the snow.

"If we go up the mountains, it will be risky," Arwen murmured quietly. Elladan turned to her and gave an encouraging smile. 

"We'll arrive just in time,  _onórë,_ " he said. They all then turn to the sound of rustling and flapping and found a golden eagle perched on Mithrel's right forearm. She held a short rope in her hands, whose ends were tied not-too-tightly around the bird's ankles. A leather hood covers its head. Mithrel turned to Elrohir, and he gave her a nod. Mithrel then took the lead.

"Wait here," Elrohir told the rest of the company. He then handed Elladan a horn. "Blow and follow us if an enemy is approaching." Elladan nodded and took the horn. Then, Mithrel removed the hood from the eagle's eyes and let the bird adjust to its surroundings. Then, she tightened her grip around the ropes and galloped her horse forward, and Elrohir came with her. The eagle spread its wings and against the wind it hovered above Mithrel's arms, still bound by the small ropes. They ride up into the mountains into a sprint, their horses especially trained for the crevices and depths of the mountain. Much like rams. 

Upon decent height, Mithrel and Elrohir stopped by the crown of the mountain. They are hours away from the Gladden Fields. The eagle was now perched on her arm and luckily, the storm was over. Elrohir looked at Mithrel and she swung her arm forward, releasing the ropes from her hand. The golden eagle then swooped down from the other side of the mountain. Its purpose was not to hunt, but to scout, and the bird knew that. Birds of the elves were trained similarly with horses. It can read and understand its master's intentions. 

Now, Elrohir and Mithrel rests idly on the crown of the mountain, waiting for the eagle to return. 

They turned their head upon a high, distant horn from behind them. Quickly, they return back down, galloping as fast as their horses could muster within the steep heights of the winter alps. 

* * *

"Rilnen!" Shouted an ellon and his brother turned just in time to avoid the arrow that whizzed in his direction. He hit the arrow away with his sword, but another one had pierced his arm, one he had barely hit. Elmir turned to the large group of orcs that came down from the mountains, and the ones that were approaching from Mirkwood. The company of elves gathered closely and drew their weapons. Elmir, Malrokko and Tursil drew their bows and arrows, and surrounded Arwen, Elladan and RIlnen, who held their swords. Once the three archers had fired their arrows, the three elves behind moved forward and countered the nearing Mountain orcs. The archers went and faced the faraway wood orcs, and attempted to take down what they can until they, too, had to draw their swords and slay all that they can. The elves were on a much greater height, and had gained the upperhand of the battle. They scattered around the lost road and fought off whatever enemy followed them. Shortly, they successfully fended the ambush. Elladan gave a sigh of relief and swung his sword, ridding it of the sticky, mucky black blood it was stained with. Arwen joined his brother's side shortly, trotting her stag forward.

"They knew we were coming through these paths," she panted. Elladan grimaced and looked up at the white mountains, where no speck or sign of their siblings revealed itself. He then turned his horse towards the mountain and galloped forward. Arwen was taken by surprise before calling to the rest of the company and following her brother.

They gallop up at the mountain, and there was still no sign of Elrohir and Mithrel. Elladan and Elmir desperately looked around for any shadow or tracks left behind, but all there was was snow. White, pure snow, as if the two had never taken this path at all.

Halfway through the mountain, they halted, upon Tursil's demand. The elf third in the keenest eyes among the company was he, and he insisted he saw a silhouette move afar, westward of the alps. Now, they try to confirm if it was another group of orcs, still in pursuit of them. Just as Arwen was about to lead the rest of the company to counter the attack, Elladan held his hand up and they all halted for the second time. Arwen watched him with anticipation as Elladan and Tursil share a glance. Then, they turned to the approaching silhouette. It was alone, but it was massive, even from afar. Elladan could have mistaken it for an orc on a warg, if it weren't for the obvious antlers.

"It is the Elvenking," Rilnen declared, and Elladan put his hand down. Thranduil soon joined the company, lightly gasping. He pulled his elk to a stop several feet away from Elladan. 

"Orcs had pushed them to the crown. We must hurry." He said and then rode up to the mountains. Elladan quickly followed the Elvenking, and the rest of the company. The silhouette of the group of orcs soon came to their sight, just as Thranduil had said. They countered them from behind fairly easy, and took Sauron's spawn by surprise. And with that they rid off a decent amount. Elrohir was taken aback by the sudden head of horses appearing behind their enemy, much more the elk, but was relieved when their enemies eventually fell, one by one, until none was left. The company unmounted their horses except for Thranduil, who only watched Elladan and Arwen rush to Elrohir who crouched by a cadaver.

The Elvenking soon found that it was Mithrel and he frowned. Elrohir looked up at Elladan and Arwen and reached out a hand to comfort them. 

"She is just unconscious, she's not dead. An enemy hit her in the head with a rock. It was very nasty, though, and I don't think she will wake up within a few days." Elrohir said and picked up his sister. Elladan and Arwen sighed in relief and moved back to give Elrohir space to move Mithrel to his Friesian stallion. He mounts his sister up with the help of Malrokko and he followed, with Mithrel pressed against his chest. Everyone else mounted their stallions again and began to make their way down mountain. The rest of the journey went quick and quiet, from the insistently quick pace. Elrohir was rushing to not lose two elves today, for Rilnen was starting to show signs of fatigue and fever. Thranduil pointed out that he had been poisoned.

 Mithrel and Rilnen barely missed death as they arrived at the porch of Rivendell, with Elrond rushing to meet them. Lindir follows behind him.

"They both need healers," Thranduil was the first to speak, as he dismounted. A retainer took his elf as he walked to the stairs. Mithrel and Rilnen had been brought to the infantry, then. Elrond followed the healers. Thranduil slowly began to walk upstairs, and Elrohir rushed to his side. 

"Why did you come?"

"Your father sent me."

"Why did you follow his words?"

"I knew it was terrible news, hence I came to his aid." Thranduil now walked down the open hallway, shoulders heavy with unfamiliar confusion. Elrohir stops and watches him walk down the hallway and turn into a corner. He then turned away and returned to his chambers to hopefully get a warm bath to ease his muscles and thought.

* * *

Mithrel stirred for the first time in five days. Lomelen, who was tasked into watching over her, caught the glimpse of the slightest movement of her fingers. Then she quietly rushed out of the room and went to find Lord Elrond. She opened her eyes several moments later; tired, (e/c) eyes stared at the ceiling blankly. Then she fully regrained consciousness. She closed her eyes again and a ghostly sigh left her pale lips. She moved to sit up from the bed, and leant herself against the headboard for support. There was a rash hammering on her head, a pain she suppressed. It was absolutely unnerving, and she was tempted to indulge in another long sleep. 

But still, she tried her best to keep conscious. How many days out had she been, she did not know. She did not even have any memories of the previous events; everything was a haze.

The door opens and an elf slowly steps inside. Mithrel looked up at her first visitor ever since she woke up and found a head of straight, pale blond tresses swiftly moving towards her. Mithrel then recognized it as Thranduil's, and there was a silent alarm that went off somewhere in her sub-conscious. 

The Elvenking sat on a chair by her bed and he only stares at her, cerulean eyes seeking and making sure that Mithrel was indeed in front of him, alive and well. She found unspoken thoughts longing to come out in his intense eyes in the same way she had caught a glimpse of his grief. But then again, she was not sure if she could trust her judgement in this situation. She also noticed that it had soon come away, as fast as it had come. And now, she wasn't entirely sure if it was really there in the first place.

 

_To be continued..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over
> 
> Finally  
> -
> 
>  
> 
> _Alqua - swan (Quenya)_  
>  _Ellith - she-elf (Sindar)_  
>  _*Llachris - meteorite's cleave ___  
>  _Sinda (singular) - Grey-elf (Sindar)_  
>  _Hanno - brother (Quenya)_  
>  _I onórë eccoitie - The sister is awake (Quenya)_  
>  _Hérincë - little lady; little sister (Quenya)_  
>  _Melindolda milyatyë - Your lover longs for you (Quenya)_  
>  _Hanno, lennamanwalwë - Brother, we are ready to go (Quenya)_  
>  _Rilnen - Brilliant water (Sindar)_  
>  _Elmir - star-gem (Sindar)_  
>  _Malrokko - golden horse (Quenya)_  
>  _Tursil - Great white light (Quenya)_  
>  -  
> * _Llach (Quenya)_ does not literally mean meteorite. According to the appendix included in _The Silmarillion_ , it means leaping flame. Eol's sword, _Angllachel_ , includes the same term as it was forged with meteoritic iron. I only presumed that the 'leaping flame' the elves know is a meteor and simply put it into simpler terms for the sake of a shorter name. If I list the whole, literal name, it would be Cleave of Leaping Fire, and would be too long and might lead to confusion in sentences.


	13. To Walk On A Gossamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-   
> Such was the way of life - some things we cannot have, can never have and will never have. However, hearts are fragile and weak and does it know time? No. The heart knows not of patience, and it is its biggest dread - chances.

Mithrel’s heart thumps against her chest and she was certain the elven-king could hear it as well. As he sits beside her bed, he stared with such a familiar yet distant gaze, as if a lost memory. And it added to her worry even more. However, none dared to speak. They shared their thoughts through silence, (e/c) and cerulean hues engaging in an unseen argument and yelling. The silence slowly unsettled Mithrel, as the dreams of her long sleep slowly sprang in her mind, reminding her of why her heart was deeply troubled upon Thranduil’s current presence.

And now, she felt deeply troubled for in her sleep, she had seen events long forgotten in the memories and hearts of many. Memory that was rightfully hers, but did not match the life she has lived so far. It was confusing for Mithrel, and definitely too profound for her to cope with. It was all a mess. But among these imagery, one name always stood out.

Mithrel looked down and took a deep, silent breath. Thranduil reached to cradle her hands between his own. He had not met this elf until he arrived at Imladris, but so great were the tugs in his heart, and much too painful they were for him to resist the affections. And genuinely, he was overwhelmed at the rekindled strings inside his chest. Swift and sudden, much like Thorondor, king of the Eagles of Manwe. And Thranduil now decided he will unfold the slightest of it, unless he spots the smallest hint of a one-sided love. He will not risk grief and his well-being once more, but this he was willing to give a shot.

“You are afraid,” he whispered gently, lowering his head and bringing the hands to his lips where it kissed both backs of her hands. His pale blond tresses fell to his face, hiding his fair features behind a curtain of gold. Mithrel slowly looked at him, marvelling, but was lost again in her thoughts in an attempt to decode the jumbled memories that were suddenly in her mind. Although, it did not belong to her, as she insists herself.

Thranduil was also in those said memories, where she ‘remembers’ walking with him through the peaceful green woods of an unfamiliar forest. One was also of where they escorted merchants through a path. One was where she stood by him during a great, relentless war, and one was… was when Thranduil first let his elfling play with her.

And like Ulmo’s waves against rocks, realisation crashed against her, swift and sudden. The memories were _hers_ and now they are all back. Her old, asleep _fea_ had now awakened once more and Mithrel, or rather (Y/n), closed his eyes and brought a hand to her lips, swallowing back a sob that dared leave her lips. She took a deep breath, shuddering and the other hand slowly gripping Thranduil’s in return.

When she opened her eyes, she found him staring back in panic.

“Why do you weep?” he asked. (Y/n) then brought her hand away from his and placed it above the one above her mouth. She then turned away and closed her eyes. Thranduil moved a hand to gently caress her cheek with his knuckles, whereas she leant away from.

“You killed me,” she whispered and Thranduil paused, confused. “You pierced me with your own blade. And yet, you sit beside me upon my awakening with a promise of marriage on the back of your neck!”

“I do not understand-“           

 _“_ _I will hold my sword for my home, my shield for my people, my honor for my prince and my life for my king for as long as the trees of the Great Greenwood grow,”_ (Y/n) whispered. For a moment, there was anguish in Thranduil’s face before he swiftly stood up and took a step back. (Y/n) looked up at him, in slight disbelief and hatred.

“And now that you understand, you turn your back; you hesitate!” She exclaimed and at once, Elrond barged in the room, and a grave expression fell on his face once he had found out he was too late.

“King Thranduil,” he quietly called but the Elvenking remained staring at (Y/n). She looked so different. Perhaps it is because she was reborn as a daughter of Elrond, but she _looked_ different. Her face was strained with anguish, long harboured into centuries of sleep after his betrayal, kindled by anger and promise of revenge. Oh, how his heart ached at that moment, for he had long dreaded that day. One too many he had lost from the death in Dagorlad. Now, he longs for her forgiveness. But he kept his walls up once more and he turned and walked out of the ellith’s chambers, not once turning back.

-

_“…uil?”_

He stirs, eyes slowly fluttering open. A hand loosely holds his shoulder, nudging him back to his consciousness. Thranduil properly sits up and leans himself against the chair. Now, the hand has left him, however, he could comprehend none.

“Thranduil,” it called again. He hears a shuffle near him, but he made no attempt to move from his haze. He was momentarily distracted by warmth over his cheeks and when he finally made the effort to move his eyes, he met (e/c) ones.

“(Y/n)…” he murmurs, receiving a confused hum before the warmth disappeared and the (e/c) eyes disappeared from his blurry sight. Then, consciousness struck him and he blinks several times, finally able to process everything. Oh, how inconvenient.

He slumps forward, his hair falling over his face as his hands try to rub the heavy sleepiness from his eyes. How long had he been awake for him to be _this_ tired? But then again, how long had _she_ been unconscious?

Speaking of which.

He whips his head upwards, cerulean eyes looking and expecting. He met the (e/c) hues once more, but now much clearer. He also notices the teasing, yet genuine smile directed towards him. He then sits properly, just now processing everything he had done for the last fifteen minutes. Then he feels rather ashamed and now, he loathed the mocking grin that ever grew on the room occupant’s face.

“I did not know you could look _that_ vulnerable, your highness,” Mithrel spoke as she grabs her cup of herbal tea that has been prepared for her in case she wakes up. She cradles the porcelain in her hands, not once minding the heat for she found it rather comforting.

“Shush you, (Y/n),” he said. Mithrel then pauses and gives him an odd look. She then furrows her eyebrows and slightly cock her head to the side.

“That is the third time now, your highness. First is during your sleep, second is from earlier, and now. Who is this lady you mistake me as anyways?” She asked with a raspy voice before she sips the warm beverage in her cup. Thranduil now gives her an odd stare.

Was it only a dream, then?

He shakes his thoughts off his head and glance down again. Most likely, it was.

“I suppose I am still… asleep. My mind is asleep, but I did not mean to mistake you as anyone.” He said and stood up.

“I should call Lord Elrond. He will be delighted to know you’ve finally woken up.” He said and bid her goodbye before leaving the room. Mithrel watches his back silently and only looked away when he had closed the door behind him. She then gives a grunt and outs the teacup down on the table by her bed.

-

Elrond knocks for a moment before slowly opening the door. Mithrel looks up from the literature she had been reading and met Elrond’s wide, relieved eyes. She sets the leatherbound away and only shuffles so she would be facing the door. No, she will not try to stand as she tried before. Half her body was still asleep and Valar forbid, she would not like to crawl.

But instead of stepping further inside, Elrond presses his back onto the doorway and Mithrel’s siblings step inside, all rushing. Only then did Elrond step in and closed the door. Whereas her siblings gather by the bed and quite surprised she was.

“It was just a scar on the head, nothing major,” she said before any one of them had even said anything. Then, there was an awful silence as they all shared a look; Elrohir to Elladan, Elladan to Elrohir, the twins to Arwen, and all three of them to Elrond, and Elrond to Mithrel. Mithrel now pauses as well, eyes now dreading for she now knew it was something major indeed.

“…How bad?” She asked. Elrond remained silent and moved across the room, whereas he turned around the mirror on the dresser facing the wall. Elrohir and Elladan then stood up and helped Mithrel up from the bed. They then led her towards the dresser, with Arwen following behind and looking at Elrond who only nods at her. The twins sat Mithrel down on the cushion and Mithrel did not look at the mirror until Arwen put her hands on her shoulders.

There, her reflection stared back at her. A deep, healing wound ran across her face, from left cheek, over her temple and her right cheek. Her lip was also busted, but would heal soon. However, Elrond swept the hair covering her left ear. She also noticed her hair was tied back.

Her ear-

Her ear. It was missing. There was only but a large, red scar and a deep hollow over where it once was. There was also a large bruise on the side of her head. Mithrel choked on a sob and noticed Arwen give Elrond another look. He nodded again and slowly but hesitantly, Arwen undid the tie on her hair. Blunt and unevenly cut fringes and tresses fell down on her back and shoulders and face, only showing more of what the damage had done.

“We,” started Elrohir, “had to cut it. It was so sticky with orc blood and yours, we had no choice. Glorfindel himself was even more upset with it, we all are.” Mithrel broke another sob. She then closes her eyes and looks down, hands finding their way over Arwen’s. She wraps her arms around Mithrel’s shoulders and sighs.

“We’ll grow it back again, and I’ll braid you everytime,” she whispers. The twins also joined the embrace, with Elrohir clicking his tongue.

“No matter what happens, you’re still our pretty little swan. Right, _atar_?” He then looks up at Elrond. He smiles slightly and he joins the embrace.

“Well, at least I am home and safe. I could not ask for any more,” Mithrel chuckled and sniffed. Everyone else moved away slowly. Elrond now puts his hands over her shoulders and presses his cheek against hers and lifts her chin.

“If you really are that upset, I know someone who could help with the styling of your hair. Although, he is most likely asleep now,” he murmured and made a sound of fake disappointment. Mithrel looks at him in disbelief through the mirror and chuckles.

“No, _atar_. You can’t possibly be serious,” she sighs. Elrond smiles and arches a brow.

“Am I not?” Mithrel’s grin falters, but it was not a bad thing. Elrohir sits down on a chair nearby watching silently. Elladan stands behind him and Arwen on the bed.

“He visited Lindon quite a few times, you see. And he’s a charmer, he was a succubus back then. He would often braid any maiden’s hair, or just simply put them up in any style that suits them,” Elrond said and moved away from the dresser. He assists Mithrel back to the bed where he sat her beside Arwen.

“Although, we did not know it was, well, Thranduil.” He continued. “We only found out until he braided Gil-galad’s lover, Eromenear. But it was not because he laid her, no. She only asked him a favour to impress my king, to which of course impressed him. Gil-galad then found out Eromenear did not braid her hair that time and wishes to know who it were, since my king is quite a possessive fellow even if he does not admit it. Eromenear did not tell him, so he sent out a message to everyone in his kingdom that if no one shall turn up at his throne room before dinner, he will be furious. And nobody wanted him to be furious. But those were just air coming out of his mouth for Gil-galad,” Elrond paused for a moment to sit beside Mithrel.

“But when someone did turn up, the last he expected was Thranduil, son of Oropher. He asked then why he did it, but Thranduil decided to be foolish and told him that he braids every maiden he had ever slept with. Gil-galad was about to draw his sword if it weren’t for him interrupting him, saying: “But I did not lay her down. She came to me and asked me to braid her locks, and I provided.” And if it weren’t for that very sentence, there would have been a conflict between the Noldor and Sindar at this age.” Elrond sighs and Elladan let out a silent chuckle. Elrohir followed with a giggle.

“That does not sound like him; the Woodland King.” Elrohir said and and Elrond nods.

“Now, it does indeed sound so unfamiliar. But times have changed, obviously.” Elrond says and turns to Mithrel.

“Well, I think it is time you rest again.” He said and stood up. “Besides, I have duties; and so do you, Arwen, Elrohir.” He said and gave Mithrel a kiss on top of her head before turning to leave. Arwen and Elrohir stood up to follow, both also leaving kisses on her head before departing. Elladan waves them goodbye and Mithrel crawls back to the middle of her bed where she covers herself with the blankets.

“You’re watching over me?” She asked Elladan and he turns to her before nodding. He pulls a chair by her bed and sat down on it.

“I’ll be cleaning your wounds in a bit. Go have a brief nap and I will wake you until then.”

-

“…ain. The scouts finally located _nana_ ’s whereabouts, but I just don’t completely trust it, they’ve no proof she was indeed there. _Atar_ is very convinced, though.” Mithrel slowly opens her eyes, droopy and spent. Her eyes saw the bleak, cloudy night sky outside her window. She did not move from her sheets, and only listened to what her single ear could hear.

“Still, we have no choice. It’s either she is there or not! And we can’t afford any risks. We must take _naneth_ back as soon as we can. Who knows what they’ve already done to her, I can’t even bear to imagine,” Elladan whispered quietly from outside the door. Mithrel furrowed her eyebrows and slowly sat up silently. She directed her gaze at the door and took a deep breath.

“Angmar is a long way, _hanno_. If we make it in time, then it would be a miracle.”

“It is no miracle if we move as soon as possible.” And there was a long silence. Mithrel looked down at her legs beneath the blanket, eyes now grave and despaired. She still could feel nothing, but a dull numbness. If she were to help save Celebrian, then she would need to recover quickly. She then laid back down on the bed and tried to get more sleep.

-

Mithrel woke up the next day with a gentle shake on her shoulder and she looked up to find Elrohir and Arwen’s faces hovering over hers. There were big smiles and sparkling eyes. For a moment, Mithrel was stunned, before she was sat up by Elrohir.

“Let’s go, you wouldn’t want to be late.”

“Late for what?” Mithrel asked groggily and he and Arwen share a look. They then slipped her arms in a lilac, silken robe and closed it over her white slip. They then helped her up from the bed and led her out of the door. Mithrel grunted sleepily and closed her eyes. It was yet too early, bearly sunrise. What would she be late for in such an early hour? And so, she leant her head against Arwen’s shoulder, almost on the brink of sleep. She was shaken awake by said shoulder nudging her away and Mithrel snapped her eyes open, (e/c) hues blinking rapidly.

She noticed they were leading her to the porch, somehow. The snow was cleared and only a layer of frost lays on the grass and marble.

“What are you doing?!” Elrond’s panicked voice finally made the young ellith wake up. She snapped her eyes to her father, who climbed upstairs into the balcony. Mithrel now also noticed the group of stallions and an elk assembled on the porch. Slowly, her heart dropped. But why?

Elrohir and Arwen stops by the beginning of the stairs where Elrond met them, eyebrows deeply furrowed and grey hue flashing furiously. He was obviously mad, that was very obvious enough for Mithrel to know.

“ _Atar_ ,” Arwen gently called with a sigh. Elrond stared at her, then and slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed. He finally sighed as well and reached out behind Mithrel’s head.

“You didn’t even comb her hair,” he murmured as he untangles the few knots in her hair. Then, he styles it slightly before moving away and letting Elrohir and Arwen lead Mithrel to the sill of the balcony. There, Mithrel sat and sighed. She knew that if she went down into the porch, she would slip and add damage to her lower half. She leant against the pillar as Elrohir and Arwen went down into the porch to assist with the horses. Still, she was confused as to why they brought her here.

“Are you already well?” Mithrel looked up to find Thranduil suddenly by her side and joining her on the sill. Mithrel gave him a nod and a smile.

“Almost,” she said. She fell silent once she realised the Elvenking was staring intently, as if eyeing detail.

Ah.

Mithrel now turned away, fingers brushing over the healing scar across her face. She heard him click his tongue and gently grab her hand away, setting it back down on her lap. Mithrel looks at him with a small frown.

“It was itchy,” she said and Thranduil cocked an eyebrow. Mithrel then smiled and patted her lap once. Thranduil then stands up from the sill and moves behind her.

“Do not move,” he said and swept her dark tresses behind her shoulders and combed it with his fingers. Thranduil’s cerulean orbs flicked upwards and found Elrond from below, watching and glaring. He turned away suddenly, suppressing a small smile that dared come his way. His fingers then tied her fringes into long, small braids and kept them with golden ringlets. He then works the rest of the hair, tying the upper half up and twisting the tail between the tie and next braiding its tail. He also kept it tight with another golden ringlet. He did another six, small braids, three on each side, and aligned vertically. He tied the tails of each braid together with, again, another ringlet. He then gathers the rest of the tresses and ties it by the end with a larger ringlet. The last ringlet was adorned with white and emerald stones.

He moves back to his spot across Mithrel and stares for a long while. Mithrel looks back at him with a grin.

“If you wear your hair like that, any elf or man or dwarf would sweep you off your feet if you say so,” he says and Mithrel nods. She then turns away to the porch and delicately brushed her fingers against the braids behind her.

“Well, would you?” Then, she turned to Thranduil. She caught another slight glimpse of surprise from him, but it quickly faded. There was a long silence before Thranduil sighs and holds both Mithrel’s hands in his. He then kisses its backs and closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

“It is time. I will see you again, little elfling.” Swiftly, he stood up from the sill and walked downstairs to the porch. Mithrel only stared at the spot where he once was, astounded and confused. Her eyes slowly drifted down to her lap, wide and confused, looking for whatever answer she seeks.

Thranduil shared a few words with Elrond before mounting his trusted steed. Before he set out, he looked at Mithrel. She turned and met his cerulean hues, but she did not read them. She could not read them. Thranduil turns away and then takes the front of their company. His guards follow behind him, unquestioning. Mithrel turned away and sighed, her breath turning into white mist. Arwen joins her side soon and gives her shoulder a pat.

“You will meet one another again. Maybe in the next few or several years, or perhaps in the afterlife, or maybe in another lifetime, we know not,” Undomiel murmurs. Mithrel looks up at her sister with a scoff and shook her head.

“I do not expect anything, _onore_. Now, help me back to my room. I wish to get more sleep. And besides, it was you who had the idea of bringing me here, wasn’t it?” Arwen chuckles in return and assisted her sister back to her chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran out of words to make as titles rip


	14. Color Me Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This thing all things devours:_   
>  _Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_   
>  _Gnaws iron, bites steel;_   
>  _Grinds hard stones to meal;_   
>  _Slays king, ruins town,_   
>  _And beats high mountain down._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER:  
> I do not own the five books nor do I earn money from it. This is nothing but a hobby and of entertainment. I own nothing but a few OCs.

_Nearly 200 years later_

“They’ve returned from the voyage, _atar_ ,” Arwen announces quietly as she steps inside her father’s office. As usual, he was finishing paperwork Erestor had just recently handed in. Usually, he would have ignored an announcement that came from the door (for he claims he is too busy for anything). However, long had he anticipated for their return. Months it had been ever since his beloved Celebrian, torn and fading from the horrendous treatment she suffered from the spawn of darkness. She had lost her wisdom and her soul and the sparkle in her eyes – everything. And Elrond himself was heartbroken seeing his beloved slowly fade. But fortunately, she did not fade. Although Elrond was not sure he could call it a fortune. He knows how much Celebrian suffers every day and night, and he watches her weep and screams in her sleep until she’s passed out. Then she would wake up from another nightmare. Elrond had already learned the hard way that during those times, he cannot do anything about it – none at all.

But now, he was finally at peace knowing she is in the Undying Lands, under the protection and healing of the Valar. Then, he wishes her well. They will meet again but in a very long time.

Elrond looks up from his papers, eyes meeting Arwen’s. She was smiling. Then he stood up and set his quill in the inkwell.

“Well, where are they?”

-

“Atar!” Elladan exclaims as he climbs off the horse Cirdan, the shipwright, had lent them. Elrohir follows his brother, who rushes and throws themselves at Elrond. Elrohir also went and dragged Arwen into the embrace, to which the elven lord gladly received. He wraps his arms around his children, at least as far as he could reach and a warm smile graces his face. Then, he looks up and finds Mithrel still atop her horse. However, she looks to the west. Elrond’s frown slowly faltered and he tore himself away from his elflings. He knew this day would come, but too soon it felt. They untangle their arms and Elrond looks at Elladan.

“Ever since we have arrived and departed from Mithlond, she had always looked back,” Elladan whispers quietly, as their smiles diminished. Arwen turns to her little sister worriedly and then jogs to her horse.

“ _Onore_ ,” she called softly. Mithrel slowly turned towards her and her yearning gaze turned into a warm, content smile. She then unmounts and tightly embraces Arwen with a light chuckle.

“I had fallen in love with the sea too much, I am sorry,” she murmurs and turns to Elrond. Elrond smiles and approaches as well, his arms eventually wrapping around each the elliths’ shoulders. He then places a kiss on both their foreheads, his smile returning.

“My little starlings,” Elrond murmured with a chuckle as he looks between Arwen and Mithrel. They both share a smile before pulling away and helping with the luggage. Then, they walk with their brothers and father back inside their house while they fill each other of the things that they have missed.

-

“I am tired and ready for bed,” Elrohir groans as he stretches his arms. The horse brush slips from his grip and Elladan catches it before it hit the ground. The sky is bleak and dark with no signs of stars and the moon. It was all hidden behind the thick clouds. It has been weeks since they’ve arrived back from Mithlond, and everything seems to be finally in order.

“And so am I, _hanno_. But we must finish our task,” Elladan sighs and gently shoves the brush back in Elrohir’s hands.  Elrohir grunts once more and continues to brush the chestnut mustang in the stable. Elladan quietly cleans its shed and replaces its hay with a fresh set. The faint glow of the lantern hanging on the wall of the shed basks enough light for them to see properly without trying. The stillness of the calm winter stirred peace in both brothers’ hearts.

“ _Hanno_?” Another lantern lights its way towards the entrance of the stables and Elladan and Elrohir poke their heads out of the shed to see who approaches at such a late hour. Mithrel enters slightly, only pausing to momentarily stare at the two heads staring back. Then, she cleared her throat and stepped to the shed.

“A letter came for _atar_ and now he summons you both.  I will take care of the stables,” she said and grabbed the rake from Elladan. Elrohir stares at his brother, and him back, before nodding and heading for their father’s chambers.

 

“There you are,” Elrond murmurs as he watches both his sons enter his room. He sighs and looks back down on his desk, to which a bright lamp was placed, to give enough light for the elven lord to work on his papers. Elladan and Elrohir now stood in front of his desk.

“Good evening, _atar_. Why are we summoned?” Elrohir asks and Elrond keeps his eyes on his papers – it was a letter, Elladan notices.

“The Woodland Realm had called for aid. It seems that the spawn of Ungoliant had grown too fierce and too many. They need assistance,” Elrond replied. The twins nod and listened intently to their father’s next words.

“Your sister had already picked out the company, and you two will come with them. She, I and Mithrandir will ride with you, but she will only be there to see you arrive safely at the doors of the Elvenking’s Halls. Meanwhile, Mithrandir and I will sit in council with the king. She will also escort us back to Imladris, and so you two will be in charge of your company,” Elrond thoroughly explained and finally looked up from the letter. Elladan gives his father a reassuring smile before they both nodded.

“When will we leave?” Elladan asks.

“In three days. They need us as soon as possible.” Elrohir nods then and both give a salute, to which Elrond gladly received.

“We will not let you down, _atar._ Rest well,” they both then bid him goodnight and left his chambers.  Elrond sighs deeply and looks down, hands stroking the side of his head.

“Rest,” he whispers.

-

“Always must you leave,” Arwen complains as she ties the saddle on the back of the red mustang. Mithrel smiles as she hurriedly steps down the frosty stairs and into the sorting place. Mithrel fastens her belt and slides _Llachris_ into its bind.

“Always must you notice?” She teases as she joins Arwen’s side. Arwen looks at her with a slight furrow of her eyebrows before she also broke into a grin and a chuckle.

“I would take you with me if only _atar_ would allow it,” Mithrel said as she mounts the horse. They both then glance at Elrond atop his horse, whose head turned upon hearing the mention of his name. Arwen chuckles at him and her grin widens.

“Aye. But you know how _atar_ is. If he says no, he means no,” she said.

“And what else should I mean?” Elrond replies and turns his attention back to adjusting the reins of his horse. Arwen looks up at Mithrel. They bid their farewell, then and Arwen moved back to the end of the staircase. Mithrel turns to Elrond.

“Ready when you are, my lord,” she said and Elrond gave her a quick glance before nodding and trotting forward into the drawbridge. Gandalf joins his side then after their horses have reached the slopes of the mountains. Elrohir and Elladan’s company follows, then Mithrel’s. Their group of twenty then rides over the mountain fencing the Hidden Valley.

 

“ _Green is the fields of where the horses rally, blue were the skies of which the great eagles fly,_ ” Glorfindel and Elmir sing merrily at the back of the single file. It has been seven hours since they departed from _Imladris,_ and nightfall had finally come unto them. They trod the Old Forest Road, which was faintly covered with snow. Mithrandir shares Elrond an amused look as they both listen at the very head of the file.

“Elrohir!” Mithrel calls. Elrohir turns his head around.

“Can I swap Rilnen with Glorfindel?” She called once more, and the song momentarily stopped. Elrohir lets out a scoff.

“Nay! You picked them out!” Elrohir then turns around once more and Mithrel sighs at the Shire horse joining her side. She glances and found Glorfindel now riding beside her, azure eyes gleaming in mischief and offense.

“You would swap me for a harper?” The yellow-haired Noldor murmurs quietly and Mithrel immediately nods.

“At least he is a good harper,” she murmurs back and Glorfindel gasps. Then, he falls back in his position and huffs.

“Then, I shall sing louder-“

“Stop,” Elrond cuts him off as they soon stop in front of the elven gate of the Greenwoods. The trees were rotting and twisting. The pillar in the center of the birch gate was riddled with moss and dead vines. Glorfindel casts Elrond a look to which he returned with a smug grin. Then, Elrond turns to the rest of the company. Mithrel then takes it as their cue and turns back to her company.

“Flank them,” she called and they then surround the company, with Mithrel and Elmir on the front. Mithrel then turns back to Elrond and when he gave a nod, she proceeded forward into the Elven path. Silently, they traveled through the sick, oaken woods at a normal pace with nothing but the sound of hooves resonating through the dense forest. Quiet it was, but the air was tense. Even Elladan could feel his father’s tension from the front.

After an hour, they finally caught a glimpse of the drawbridge over the rushing river. Mithrel quickly glanced at Elrond and caught him nod his head. Then, they pick up into a faster pace. The gate to the ancient palace then opened and Legolas steps out with few of his guards to meet the company.

* * *

 

Thranduil awaits his guests on his throne, face distorted with the displeasure of Elrond and Mithrandir’s company. Always they had interfered in his rule, questioning his decisions and criticizing his laws. Having them both inside his home was not what he wanted today. Elrond was quick to notice the scowl on the king’s face and smiled to himself. If the king thought he could rid of them with just a frown, then he thought wrong.

And Elrond slightly lifted his chin as they walked in a beeline before the king’s throne.

“Mithrandir and Elrond Peredhel,” Thranduil began as he stands up and descends from his podium. The frown fainted into a thin line, but his glare remained. Gandalf sighed to himself as he momentarily met the Elvenking’s gaze before bowing.

“King Thranduil,” Elrond greeted in response. Elrond gave the king a salute, but the king did not return it but only glanced and crossed his arms as he stood before them.

“What brought you to my door?” Thranduil asked words laced with the tone of intrigue and sheer curiosity for rare were their visits, both Elrond and Gandalf. Although it's not entirely unbidden, Thranduil liked if they announced their visits first. And as if reading his mind, Elrond responded.

"I apologize, we came here to bring you urgent news and therefore agreed that waiting for you to approve of our visit will only waste our time," he said. Thranduil slowly nodded and with a flick of his hand, Elrond brought forth a scroll. 

"My house received this from you, not a week's past." The elf-king lowered his gaze to the rolled parchment held delicately in the elf lord's hands and his eyes narrowed, for he does not remember writing a letter during those times. At least not one for Imladris. Still, he urged Feren to fetch the letter and have it brought to him. Then, he flicked his gaze back to Elrond and they both caught the confusion in their eyes. Worried, Elrond turned to Gandalf who gave a sigh of apology. 

_"My lord, Elrond," Lindir greets as he presents himself in his lord's chambers, first bowing politely before standing upright as the half-elven turned to look at him. He was speaking with the wizard, and they stopped abruptly as soon as they became aware of the aide's presence._

_Elrond eyed him for a moment before nodding and urging him to bring forth his message._

_"A letter arrived from the Woodland Realm. The prince himself had brought it to our doors," Lindir said as he handed the elf lord a scroll with fresh parchment. It was kept tight by a slim, green silken ribbon, pinned by a golden pendant of three oaken leaves. So rare were these letters that whenever presented, Elrond keeps it in his mind to attend to it later, for he knew that whenever the king sends letters, it needs careful attention. His attention. So he brought his hand forward and Lindir moved to place the scroll in his master's hands. Elrond moved to his desk where he set the ribbon and pin as soon as he had slipped it off the parchment._

_"Thank you, Lindir," he said and the aide bowed once more before slipping out of the chambers soundlessly._

_Elrond opens the parchment, and Gandalf joins his side. The elf-lord read the letters neatly written with black ink and openly welcomed the message it brings. However, a doubt grew in him, and so did Gandalf. It was neat, indeed, flowing and elegant, but it was not the king's. Elrond knew Thranduil's handwriting almost as well as he knows the lore of Beleriand. Many times he had read it, back when the king was but a princeling housing in the confines of Lindon, or when letters were sent back and forth from the duration of the Last Alliance._

_"Gandalf," Elrond said and he turned to his friend. The wizard knew what questions he would ask next, but he pretended to listen. Elrond kept his eyes fixed on Gandalf as he hands him the scroll. Gandalf looks at it, carefully assessing every detail._

_"Should we trust it? We know we cannot send forth an army unless the king himself demands it. Now, this letter was not written by the king, and that I am sure of."_

_"By the king or not, they will need help sooner or later."_

_"I will not risk anything, Gandalf. Especially not with them." Gandalf turned back to the letter, firmly pressing his lips in disappointment. Elrond moved away from the table but was stopped however by  Gandalf's exclaim._

_"Ah! How come I've not noticed this before?" Elrond turned back to his friend, who chuckled and handed him back the letter._

_"A signature and a stamp, from the king himself," Gandalf chuckled once more and Elrond eyed the end of the letter. Indeed, there was a seal and a signature, undoubtedly the king's. He felt no magic on the script, so he now knows this was no trick of the wizard. Elrond looked back at Gandalf, with a smile on his face and a sigh leaving his lips._

Thranduil silently reads the letter atop his throne, but at the very first sentence, his eyebrows furrowed. It took him so little time to finish the document before he stood up and walked down the stairways. He handed Feren the letter.

"Give this to Legolas, tell him the soldiers are in his command." He said and turned to his guests. Feren scurries away, with the letter in his hand. 

"I figured you might want to bring your other news in a more private space," Thranduil said and walked down a pathway. "Follow me."

 

"My lord!" The elf-king stopped in his spot to look at the soldier who had barged into his throne room, panting in all his armor, with spear and sword. 

"The border's defense has been breached!" The soldier exclaimed once more, and without another word, he rushes past Elrond and Gandalf, but the two still followed closely. 

"We will help. I have brought guards for the return journey, and they can help." Elrond said as he caught up to the king's right side and Gandalf on the other. By the look on his face, Elrond knew the king was carefully weighing his options. It was an evening attack.

"Fine. Tell your men to be ready." Elrond nodded at his orders and took another path leading to the gates. Gandalf now followed him and the marble gates were opened for them. And out into the porch, his guards still kept their stations although distressed by the guard from earlier.

"My lord," Mithrel greeted as she approached Elrond, hand resting on one hilt of her sword. She turned to Gandalf, whom she gave a courteous bow and he the same. Elrond turned to his daughter.

"Ready your men, their borders had been breached." He murmured and Mithrel took the order at once. And she left his side, approaching her ranks and giving orders. Gandalf watched quietly and turned to the gates where hooves came forth once more. And out came Thranduil on top of his elk, dressed in his pearl white armor. Behind him are three horsemen and behind them are four more horses, unoccupied. Thranduil gave Elrond a quick glance and at once, he and Gandalf took two. Then Mithrel and Glorfindel took the last two. Mithrel's small group of guards had already dispatched. 

"My lord, how many guards do you have on the borders?" Elrond asked as they rode past the trees.

"Only a few. My son's in charge tonight, as he insisted," Thranduil murmured in response. Elrond nodded and only kept silent, the seven horses following behind the speeding king.

* * *

 

" _Hir nin_! There is too many, we must fall back!" Tauriel exclaimed as she joined the prince's side after slaying another one of the many many arachnids creeping from the south. Legolas hissed and he, too, buried the blade of his dagger deep into the head of one. They were only six against a league, they were outnumbered. He retrieved the blade from the creature and sliced a deep, clean cut on the one who lunged at him in one, swift swing of his arm. And he pushed the creature aside with some of its black blood staining the sleeve of his tunic. None of them were injured, but they were worn out. There weren't only spiders, but also orcs, and that did not help at all.

Tauriel looked up at the trees as they heard rustling and she moved back from its trunk, blades ready. However, an arrow flew past the leaves of the tall oaken and shot another arachnid emerging from the shadows. Elves then came from the branches, but they were not garbed in the same fashion as Tauriel is used to. She squinted in confusion but reverted her focus on an orc, relieved that it was not another spider.

"What are Rivendell elves doing here?" Legolas asked himself as he shot an orc from afar. Tauriel looked at him momentarily before climbing on a tree and shooting a spider on it. Its carcass fell on the ground and it crushed a few orcs.

From a distance, they heard a horn and Tauriel sighed in relief. Shortly, the horses came into the scene, but they did not expect the king to come with them. Legolas was not deeply troubled upon seeing Lord Elrond and his father in the same space.

* * *

 

"There are so many," Gandalf said as he nudged an orc with the end of his staff. Mithrel looked at him and sighed, (e/c) eyes now drifting to the south. Then, he turned back to the wizard and found him looking back at her with a sigh. 

"Legolas," Thranduil called as he finally returned from inspecting the losses, both orc and spider, and elf. Legolas left his conversation with one of his guards and stopped in front of his father. There was a furious glint in his father's eyes.

"What made you think it is wise to bring nothing but one group to defend our borders?" He asked, and Legolas's shoulders stiffened at the question.

"I did not think they were bold enough to bring forth so many."

"Well, I hope this serves as a lesson for you," the king sighed and turned around. Gandalf approached him.

"These are not many to the eyes of the enemy, your highness." The wizard said. Thranduil stopped and looked at the wizard, eyes anticipating and frustrated at the same time.

"Enemy? What enemy?" The elf-king asked.

"The Necromancer. He has taken the old fortress." The elf-king scoffed in disbelief and turned away, returning to his elk and mounting it.

"The old fortress is abandoned. So it will ever be." 

"After today, do you really think it so?" Now, it was Elrond who interfered. Thranduil stared at the elf lord for a long while, observing and assessing. Until he turned his elk away and galloped past the trees, with his guards with him. 

"I believe your visit is now finished, Lord Elrond. I will heed your warning." The king said as he rode away, and the elf lord was at least satisfied to have gotten a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are


	15. Overture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ I needed some inspiration and looked into my playlist. Song is by Muse ]
> 
> -
> 
> The time when his facade fails, the time he will be most weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I can't forgive you_   
>  _And I can't forget_

He remembered the first time they met. It was so clear as if it were just yesterday as if all that came to pass never happened. The last part, however, was just Thranduil's wishful thinking. If given the chance, he'd repeat the same day over and over again and keep her in his arms forever. But then again, that was just his wishful thinking. Not once did he ever regret meeting the mother of his only son, his one and only beloved. But what he did despise was the pain it felt, reminiscing every moment he had ever spent with her; the brief glances, the brief naps, the mornings and nights they would witness fall away, to the unions of their souls. All of those he missed, for it was Elarrian whom he truly felt he belonged to. At least ever since the fall of Doriath. His love for the Sindar was so strong, unbelievably strong that even he was surprised he was capable of such emotions. Even until now, it lingers. 

Another thing he despises is the question that keeps returning to his thoughts, more often than it has ever been; 

_What if he had married another else?_

The guilt in his chest ate most of him everytime the very question appears in his mind. A pair of (y/n) eyes kept appearing in his mind, along with the question. He admits, he did admire his fallen friend at one point. She was fierce, admirable, fair and gentle. She was always composed and always in control, but that's their difference. Thranduil  _was_ wild, reckless. He learned to discipline the difficult way, putting him through unbelievable obstacles. Thranduil did not want to break the innocence of (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes and relentless soul. She was a star for him, something beyond his reach. It must be why their paths ended such a horrendous way- on the edge of his blade. Perhaps she was never meant to be with him after all, perhaps not even meant to be his friend. And the only time he decides  _not_ to be selfish, when he decided to let her go, the consequences and guilt now destroy what's left of him

Thranduil grimaced as soon as his thoughts stopped, and found himself holding his sword, unsheathed. Its blade glimmered from what sunlight was coming from the windows of his private chambers. It was silver, purely silver. He slightly tilted the sword and saw half of his face reflected on the edge. His glamour had faded throughout his internal monologue, and his marks were as visible as daylight. And now that he had noticed, he felt the pain at last and it came surging at him, like a fierce winter wind from the north. He quickly put his sword on the table he was leaning from and moved to the windowsills, where he gripped its edges and took a deep, shaky breath of fresh air. It had always worked, but now it wouldn't and he couldn't understand why. Every attempt to conceal his wretched scar only led to more pain. 

Was he fading? Was he losing his strength?

"My lord!" He tensed and grunted in agony as he slightly glanced back at the intruder. His single, cerulean eyes met (e/c) ones and he suddenly paused. The ache in his face had suddenly dulled and he was able to conceal it. 

"(Y/n)," he murmured and he blinked. But he found it was not his friend, but one of his guests' guards. Mithrel, the lady he had saved two centuries ago. His eyes narrowed into a glare as he straightened and turned to fully face the panicked elleth.

"How much have you seen?" He asked, voice booming loud and fierce. He noticed the guard flinch and take a step back. She raised her hands in defense, eyes averting to his floor and eventually shutting as a form of apology.

"I-I saw nothing, my lord. I was only here to declare that we ar-" He grew more livid and quickly, he interrupted her.

"You lie! How much have you seen?!" He exclaimed and with one swift move, the elleth was struggling within his vice grip around her neck. He firmly pressed her against the wall, as she attempted to get both hands off her neck. It was futile, of course, but it's better she tried than not at all. Mithrel's eyes squinted in agony. His nails were digging themselves in the back of her neck and soon, it will bleed. But Thranduil will make sure it didn't, unless necessary. 

His cerulean eyes bore into (e/c) ones and slowly, his glamour faded and revealed the itching, repulsive scar once more. But it was intentional. 

"How much have you seen?" He asked once more, but into a silent whisper. Mithrel stared back at him for a while - tried to - before closing her eyes in defeat and gasping for the air stolen from her lungs. The elf-king slowly released his grip and took a step back as she fell to the floor, gripping her neck and choking. He now noticed the marks he had left not only on the back of her neck but all over it. It was bruising. 

"I-I-" She gasped and attempted to stand up, using the wall as support. "I saw everything, my lord, I-I didn't mean to." She continued. Thranduil kept his livid gaze upon her for a while before tilting his head upwards.

"And are you afraid now?" Mithrel let out a disgruntled whimper after stabilizing her breaths. She turned back to the king and watched the glamour slowly return, his white eye regaining its cerulean pupil and iris. Now both eyes glared down at her. Mithrel met his gaze but there was no fear in them. Instead, there was admiration and sympathy. She then turned away.

"No, my lord." She admitted and lowered her head, eyes closing as she does. "I still think you're beautiful, my lord." 

 

_"I still think you're beautiful," (Y/n) whispers as she looks up at her king, half-burned and broken. But her words did not reach his deaf ears, blocked by the hatred and agony clouding his mind. "My lord," and she holds the silver blade hovering above her chest with both hands, its edges cutting her palms. Her eyes showed no fear, but only admiration and sympathy. Her job was done._

 

"My lord?" Mithrel's voice snapped him out of his trance and he turned back to her, his eyes stricken with fear and regret. The young elf was taken aback that he  _did_ hold emotions, and the sudden vulnerability of the great elf-king before her was frightening. It would be rude if she stayed more than what was welcome, but it would be even ruder to suddenly leave him like this, knowing full well that he had exposed himself at a lowly guard. Mithrel then decided she would not leave unless told to, or not without giving an apology. Mithrel noticed his eyes had not faltered one bit, and she dared take a step forward and hesitantly, she cradled his cheeks, and they were warm, very warm, beneath her touch. He looked so fragile, so tormented, and Mithrel was unsure of how to handle the situation. She quickly glanced back and thankfully found the doors closed. Then, she looks back up at the king, eyes swimming in misery, but the moment their eyes met, a flash of recognition danced in the depth of his eyes and he jerked away from her hands. 

"Leave," he murmured silently as he turned towards the table he was leaning against earlier. Mithrel blinked in confusion before silently returning her hands to her sides and leaving the room as soon as she was told. 

"I apologize for the intrusion, my lord," she murmured on her way out, and she was certain he had caught it for he quickly glanced back before returning his focus on the blade lying on his red, oaken desk and he picked it up. He returns it back in its hold and held its base firmly. He let out a sigh as soon as his doors closed.

* * *

 

The serenity of the first light of the new day was interrupted by the sound of hooves and leather echoing from the gathering porch of his castle. Thranduil, however, remained in his study, occupying himself with documents that needed his signing or attention. There were not many, and soon he will have no excuse to not see the company of Elrond and Gandalf before they depart. They have less than three months of travel,  _what_ could he possibly  _need_ to see them for? Thranduil leans away from his papers with a scoff and stares at a wall. He then fixes his eyes on the neat pile of parchment on his table.

_"I still think you're beautiful, my lord,"_

Thranduil scoffs again and resumes his work, but stopping only when he heard a gentle rapping on his door. Thranduil's mood soured, even more, when the knocks on his door rapped once more when he did not respond, each knock more insistent than the last one. It's the third time now that he had heard the same, consistent pattern interrupting his working hours. He will snap, he eventually will, that he is most sure of, for he wishes nothing more but to enjoy the early hours of dawn to himself, alone with his thoughts and duties. However, that seems to be highly unlikely. 

The door parts and the same servant enters, her dark, curly tresses fluttering past her shoulders as she storms towards the king. Politely, she stopped several feet away from the desk and Thranduil takes in a deep sigh. He remembers her name. Agnir, it was and if he remembers correctly, he is also (Y/n)'s friend, the one who he immediately sought the night (Y/n) slipped away from the halls of his father. 

"My king, I understand it is the first light, but the Grey Wizard insists that he sees you before they depart, and I have been sprinting back and forth, from the gates of your kingdom and to its depth," she declared politely, her voice strained and exhausted. It is too early, perhaps he should not have sent the elleth to do his errands for him. He considered responding for a moment before the she-elf's next statement pushed him.

"And Mithrandir says that he shall not leave lest he speaks with you," she finally panted out and with one, swift movement, he rises from his chair, grabbing his staff leaning on his stable and storming out of the study. He caught Agnir sigh of relief and he dismissed her without looking once. Agnir followed the king out of the door and went the other way, but not without watching the elf-king stride down the hallways with her golden, watchful eyes. And then, she turns away once more and continued walking to resume her duties. 

* * *

 

"Gandalf, understand the king has duties, it is unlikely he will heed also your request," Elrond tells his companion with a sigh of defeat, as if he had known all along the first two denials of the king were sure and resolved, never changing and never will. "Let us go now, while it is still early." Gandalf turns to his friend with a sigh and he knew very well that Elrond was right. Still, he refuses to deter and insists that he needs to see Thranduil, whether it be by being left behind or angering the king. Now, Elrond refuses the idea of both and has tried to stop Gandalf, but once the wizard was set, there is no stopping him. Elrond sighed and kept his eyes fixed on the sealed gates before them, merely waiting to be opened upon his command. Elrond then glances at his daughter and catches her staring into nothing, while in deep thought. He also didn't fail to notice the bruises on her neck, bruises which are so visible and clear. He never remembered seeing the like of it before, except  _one_ time.

"And what is so important that you so insistingly pursue my limited attention, no matter how many times I have said no?" Thranduil's booming voice had snapped Elrond out of his observation and now found that his daughter had been returning his stare in slight horror and attempted to hide the bruises behind her hair. Elrond squinted his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. He then dismounts his stallion and joins Gandalf and Thranduil, who had separated themselves from whoever is within hearing distance. Mithrel turns back to the front and frowns, reaching up a hand to trace the marks still left on her neck. It will eventually go away, but not today. And she was not sure either if she could bear any more of the questioning gazes his father will send her from now on. Elrond's been known for his eyes for detail, and how he was  _very_ keen on not missing any.

Elrond arrives at Gandalf's side but paid no heed to join their conversation. He also made sure that he arrives precisely when they're done, to which Elrond had done and eventually, the only words he caught from the wizard's lips are;

"It is nice to see that there are still some of you left," Mithrandir murmured as he goes away and Elrond notices the corner of the elf-king's lips twitch in displeasure. He also caught his gaze flicker momentarily before his cerulean orbs met his awaiting grey ones. And then, there was a scowl on his face but Elrond matched it with a tilt of his head and hardening his gaze. 

"Ah, are we taking turns now? Then perhaps it is my turn to enjoy a little peace for once?" Thranduil spoke gently, although ever syllable in his words was coated with scorn and Elrond almost flinched at the anger in it -  _almost_.

"Perhaps, but not now. I first wish to know  _what_ you did to my daughter.  _Precisely._ " The stresses in his words were nearly spat in a whisper and he made sure the elf-king could see the anger in  _his_ words. No one hurts  _any_ of his children and gets away with it, whether it be a king or whatnot. And Thranduil was no exception -  _especially_ no exception. He swore an oath, that all his beloveds' pain is his to bear, and should anyone at all cast it upon any of his children, he shall find a reason why, and judge if they deserve it. And Elrond wants answers.  _Now._

" _Atar_ , we will not arrive in time if we delay further. You are a day behind schedule," Mithrel called out suddenly and Elrond averted his gaze, slowly softening with the realization that he will not get his answers anytime soon. Still, as long as his daughter will keep safe from now on, he supposes he's satisfied with that. He turns back to the elf-king to cast him his final gaze before returning to his steed. The smug smirk that returned to Thranduil's face was ever visible, and he made sure that nobody misses it. Even the elleth herself. Though, he must admit he was alarmed at the fact that Elrond would know that it was _him._ Perhaps the elleth did deserve an apology for last night's events, but it is not now - at least he thinks so. And so, he found the lady meets his gaze no more when he looked up at her. She had immediately turned away, whether by coincidence or not, and lowered her head. Thranduil's smug grin faltered into a disinterested line as he finally watched his guests part from his realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm experimenting with writing styles, I hope you like it! Also, it's quite short but I'd rather keep it that way than ruin it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, howdy! This is my first work here in ao3 but eh, I'm trying. Anyways, enjoy! I'll update whenever I can and also, constructive criticism is always accepted :)
> 
> July 2017


End file.
